1  *»*^K-  *i  ^»j*  "^  V-orfl» »  *^~^rrz- -— T^^^Z^ tV: i  v' 


MRS.  BURTON   HARRISON 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


THE  GIFT  OF 

MAY  TREAT  MORRISON 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
ALEXANDER  F  MORRISON 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS 


BY 

MRS.  BURTON  HARRISON 

AUTHOR  OF  "GOLDEN  ROD:   AN  IDYL  OF  MOUNT  DESERT" 
"HELEN  TROY"   ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  FEXN  AND  UYDE 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 


Copyright,  1887,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  righto  ratrved. 


TO 

B.,  F.,  R,  AND  A. 

« 
o 
2 


Wfiat  is  yon  relic  ?    Ah,  well  may  you  ask  it ! 

Amid  the  medley  on  my  mantel-shelf, 
A  gray-green  sheaf  thrust  in  an  Indian  basket, 

Watched  by  a  pair  of  dragons  in  old  Delft — 
That  one  'poor  handful  of  Mount  Desert  grasses — 
Enshrines  a  charm  all  other  charms  surpasses! 

Just  as,  within  some  queer-shaped  Turkish  vial, 

Attar  of  roses  hoards  its  essence  rare, 
And,  when  one  idly  gives  the  scent  a  trial, 

tilcst  Araby  escapes  upon  the  air — 
So,  these  frail  tokens  of  a  season  vanished 
Call  back,  to  live  again,  dear  scenes  long  banished! 

Last  night — when  sleet  was  dashing  on  my  casement, 
And  througJi  forsaken  streets  the  ^cild  winds  raved, 

As  if  to  mock  the  once  pure  snow's  abasement — 
Within  my  lamp-lit  room  there  rose,  and  braved 

With  siccet  appeal  old  winter's  frosty  greeting, 

A  balm  that  witched  me  with  its  soft  entreating. 

Lack  came  the  visions  I  would  fain  remember. 

Waking,  I  dreamed  myself  where  I  would  be. 
Gone  was  the  scowling  presence  of  Deccn/In  r. 

Midsummer  reigned  at  Eden  in  the  8«t ! 
And  from  the  earth,  «i  <  re  n  title,  a  fixing, 
(><l<>rx  c.i'liakd,  iny  grateful  sense  surprising. 


Once  more  I  felt  the  soft  salt  air,  in-blowing 

From  ocean's  azure  field  that  eastward  gleams; 

Once  more  I  saw,  in  heavens  at  sunset  glowing, 

Pageants,  that  throng  and  fade  like  stuff  of  dreams, 

Until,  'mid  planets  pale  her  bright  way  threading, 

Came  the  moon,  o'er  all  her  radiance  shedding. 

Once  more  I  stood  upon  the  fir-crowned  highland, 
Where  fragrance  lingers  in  the  ambient  air — 

Watching  the  white  surf  leap  on  cliff  and  island, 
Watching  the  white  gull  swoop  to  rocks  laid  bare, 

Counting  the  sails  that  fleck  the  sparkling  ocean, 

Hearing  all  nature  stir  in  rhythmic  motion. 

Or  else,  afloat,  on  some  fair  August  morning, 
Aimless  I  voyaged,  in  a  swift  canoe — 

Garlands  of  golden-rod  my  craft  adorning — 
Cleaving,  to  leave  no  scar,  the  mirrored  blue ; 

Past  the  enchanted  mountains  in  their  slumber, 

Past  crag,  and  point,  and  islet  without  number ; 

Rounding  the  Jieadland,  where  with  tireless  bluster 

Waves  roll  to  caverns  that  repeat  their  roar ; 
Grazing  the  jagged  reef,  where  sea-birds  cluster, 

Fanned  by  the  sun-warmed  incense  of  the  shore, 
And  tJie  sad  bell-buoy  tells  its  woful  story, 
Whispering  in  nature's  ear  "Memento  mori!" 


But,  as  these  air-built  visions  thronged  about  me, 
Shifting,  they  glimmered  slowly  from  my  sight  £ 

And,  ere  the  world  of  work-a-day  shall  flout  me 
For  vain  imaginings  of  spent  delight, 

Haste  I  to  trap  in  words  the  dream  that  passes, 

Borne  on  the  breath  of  my  Mount  Desert  grasses! 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


DUCK  BROOK Frontispiece. 

BAR  HARBOR. To  face -p.  22 

A  CANOE  PARTY 46 

PAUL  PRY  AND  MINIMUS 56 

A  THUNDER  CAVE CO 

AT  SCHOONER  HEAD 66 

"  ROCKING,"  AT  MOUNT  DESERT "  100 

GREEN  MOUNTAIN  FROM  EAGLE  LAKE    ...  "  102 

IN  THE  EARLY  DAYS  OF  BAR  HARBOR    ...  "  110 

A  GALA-DAY  AT  BAR  HARBOR "  142 

THE  PORCUPINES "  150 

AFTER  THE  STORM "  164 

AMONG  THE  LILY-PADS "  1G8 

"No  LETTER!" "  176 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

IF  any  one  had  been  in  the  woods  along  Duck 
Brook  that  crisp  October  day,  he  would  have  known 
we  were  there,  before  he  saw  our  party ! 

We  were  noisy,  I  won't  deny  it,  and  our  number 
would  hardly  account  for  all  the  clamor.  Some 
of  us  shouted  and  sang  and  whistled,  some  of  us 
barked,  for  very  joy  of  living.  But,  indeed,  we 
couldn't  help  it. 

The  place  was  a  deep  dell  between  two  wooded 
hillsides  covered  with  last  year's  leaves,  and  decked 
with  ferns  and  vines  and  berries  of  the  summer 
just  passed. 

Through  this  hollow  ran  a  glorious  mountain 
brook,  ice-cold  and  sparkling  from  its  parent  lake 
above.  Starting  high  amid  the  hills,  it  had  stolen 
away  under  clumps  of  lady's -•  slippers,  ferns,  and 
pitcher-plants  growing  strong  and  tall  to  shelter  its 
vagaries,  and  dashed  headlong  down  the  rocks. 


2  15  AU  HARBOR  DAYS. 

I  lore  ami  there  ity  waterfalls  would  hush  their 
tumult  in  deep  pools  where  trout  lurked,  and  at 
midsummer  boys  rejoiced  to  plunge  in  for  a  swim. 
Thence,  parting  in  a  hundred  wilful  streamlets,  it 
coursed  towards  the  sea,  between  the  mossy  rocks 
that  lined  its  bed,  reuniting  to  laugh,  to  fret,  to  foam, 
to  tinkle,  until  the  great  deep  silenced  it  forever. 

A  short  life,  and  a  merry  one,  was  the  mctto 
of  Duck  Brook !  At  ordinary  times  the  place  was 
full  of  shadows.  Flickering  shadows  from  birch 
and  oak  and  maple,  whose  boughs  met  above  the 
wrater.  Tranquil  shadows,  of  spruce  and  larch  and 
balsam  fir,  with  which  the  woods  were  filled.  But 
it  was  autumn  now,  and  as  we  climbed  and  slid 
•long  the  steep  path  beside  the  brook,  yellow  and 
crimson  leaves  kept  flattering  down,  and  more  and 
more  blue  sky  kept  showing  overhead. 

There  were  five  only  in  our  party.  Ourselves — 
Paul  Pry  and  Dame  Trot — two  boys,  and  another 
person  with  a  red  shawl  on  her  arm,  and  a  book, 
which  I  never  saw  her  open.  But  as  I  believe 
young  people  are  the  only  ones  to  be  considered 
nowadays,  I  will  confine  myself  to  telling  you  first 
about  ourselves,  and  then  of  our  masters. 

"We  are  fox-terriers,  Paul  and  I.  "When  we  first 
met,  as  you  shall  learn  hereafter,  Paul's  beauty  was 
under  a  cloud,  and  if  any  one  had  told  me  I  could 
ever  have  been  brought  to  think  seriously  of  that 
skinny  little  thing,  all  pink  in  spots,  I  woului/t 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  3 

have  believed  it.  Now,  he  has  as  pretty  a  white- 
satin  coat  as  one  would  wish  to  see,  and  a  gallant 
little  figure.  The  fashionable  craze,  they  call  us, 
though  I  think  it  silly  to  class  intelligent  beings 
with  bulrushes  and  blue  china.  Besides,  we  come 
of  most  respectable  and  well-authenticated  families, 
and  our  pedigrees  are  kept  in  the  toilet-table  drawer. 
The  gentleman  who  owns  the  kennel  Paul  came 
out  of  had  several  ancestors  in  the  Mayflower;  while 
the  gentleman  who  bred  me  hasn't  any  ancestors, 
but  he  drives  a  four-in-hand,  and  you  read  about 
him  a  great  deal  in  the  society  papers,  which  is 
every  bit  as  good. 

We  had  set  out  to  spend  the  morning  in  the 
woods,  and  our  walk,  so  far,  had  been  full  of  pleas 
ant  surprises,  such  as  finding  a  chilled  field-mouse 
thawing  herself  in  a  patch  of  sunshine  on  the  path ; 
picking  wintergreen  berries  off  their  stems  with  our 
own  little  sharp  teeth ;  and  starting  up  a  partridge 
who  whirred  so  suddenly  away  from  us  as  to  fright 
en  my  poor  Paul  almost  into  fits.  For  Paul,  let  me 
tell  you  in  a  whisper,  is  not  like  that  hero  of  whom 
the  boys  are  forever  singing — a  certain  u  Abdullah 
Bulbul  Ameer,"  who  was  "  wholly  impervious  to 
fear." 

And  ah !  what  splendid  sport  it  was,  to  patter 
through  the  dried  leaves,  and  feel  the  fresh  ones 
falling  down  so  fast  they  tickled  one !  Now  up  on 
the  summit  of  the  hill ;  then,  hurry  skurry,  down 


4  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

again,  chasing  each,  other,  nip  and  tuck,  snatch  and 
worry,  dodging,  growling,  gripping,  till,  blind  and 
heedless,  we  rolled  heels  over  head  down  to  the 
bottom  of  the  ravine. 

Then  the  boys  cheered  us  to  begin  again,  and 
when  we  had  all  had  enough  of  romping  in  the 
leaves,  it  was  a  fresh  excitement  to  leave  the  path 
where  so  many  tree-trunks,  fallen  across,  made  it  a 
good  deal  of  a  scramble  to  get  ahead.  To  follow 
up  the  stream,  we  determined  to  jump  from  one 
rock  to  another  along  its  bed,  a  most  fascinating 
thing  to  do  in  all  cases,  and  on  Duck  Brook  pecul 
iarly  inviting.  The  boys,  balancing-poles  in  hand, 
skipped  ahead ;  Paul  and  I  followed,  poising  some 
times  on  the  edge  of  a  slippery  boulder  above  a 
foaming  eddy,  and  then  springing  into  space  in  a 
neck-or-nothing  jump.  Often  our  hind-legs  dangled 
in  the  water,  and  we  narrowly  missed  a  cold  bath, 
which,  of  all  things,  I  detest  most  heartily.  (A 
warm  bath  is  bad  enough,  you  will  allow,  and  soap 
rubbed  in,  under  the  pretence  that  it  is  good  for 
one,  is  a  miserable  mockery.) 

The  person  with  the  book  came  after  us,  more 
leisurely.  "When  she  did  reach  the  spot  where  we 
awaited  her,  she  only  dropped  down  upon  a  rock- 
ledge  and  uttered  the  remark, 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  day  ?" 

"Mamma!"  cried  one  of  the  boys,  "You've  said 
that  five  times  already  !" 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  5 

"  I  haven't  the  energy  to  be  original.  Come, 
boys,  I  insist  upon  a  rest.  This  is  far  too  lovely  a 
place  to  be  passed  by  in  a  hurry." 

She  had  laid  the  scarlet  shawl  upon  the  ground 
beside  her.  "With  one  bound  I  was  upon  it,  nest 
ling  in  its  folds.  She,  it,  I,  everything,  was  steeped 
in  amber  sunshine.  At  our  feet,  the  brook  had 
widened  to  a  pool,  and  across  it  met  the  bare  white 
arms  of  some  birches,  from  which  the  golden  leaves 
had  dropped  away  to  cover  the  surface  of  the  w^ater. 
Above  our  heads  swept  down  a  great  bough  of 
purple-leaved  moosewood,  royal  in  coloring ;  and  all 
around  glowed  maples,  red  as  blood.  Yes,  that 
place  was  good  enough  to  stay  in ! 

Our  two  boys  set  to  work  to  cut  long  switches, 
and  with  them  began  to  poke  at  the  birch-leaves  in 
the  pool,  and  clear  its  choked-up  outlets.  The  leaves, 
huddling  together  sluggishly  at  first,  then  breaking 
up  by  ones  and  twos,  and  then  in  larger  groups, 
went  drifting  down  the  stream,  till  you  might  have 
thought  Duck  Brook  was  turned  to  liquid  gold. 
This  species  of  agreeable  idling  suggested  a  leaf -boat 
race,  and  they  set  out  at  once  to  organize  their  navy. 

I  think,  since  you  are  to  hear  quite  often  of  the 
doings  of  these  lads,  you  will  wish  to  know  their 
names.  Suppose  we  designate  them  by  the  school 
boy  titles  of  "Minor"  and  "Minimus,"  which  they 
were  often  called  on  to  respond  to  ?  What  sort  of 
boys  they  were,  I  shall  leave  you  to  find  out. 


6  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

"  Mine's  ready  !"  shouted  Minor. 

"  So's  mine,"  roared  Minimus. 

"  Mine's  Yale,"  said  Minor. 

"  So's  mine,"  answered  his  junior. 

"  Oh !  look  here,  now,  that's  all  rubbish,  Minny. 
You'll  have  to  take  Harvard  or  Columbia  or  Prince 
ton,  I  don't  care  which." 

"  But  I'm  a  Yale  man,"  pleaded  Minimus. 

"  "Who  said  you  aren't  ?  But  there's  no  fun  to  a 
race  if  both  are  on  one  side." 

"  "Well,  you  take  Harvard,  and  let  me  be  Yale." 

"  None  of  your  nonsense,"  sternly  said  the  elder. 
"  I  got  it  first,  and,  besides,  I've  the  better  right,  be 
cause  I'll  get  there  first ;  to  Yale,  I  mean." 

Unconvinced,  but  overcome,  Minimus  elected  to 
sail  under  the  banner  of  Columbia.  Starting  the 
two  boats  side  by  side  upon  the  crystal  current, 
their  owners  followed,  jumping  from  stone  to  stone, 
and  occasionally  directing  the  capricious  craft  by 
touches  of  the  switch. 

Presently  Yale's  boat  gave  a  lurch,  narrowly  es 
caped  a  whirlpool,  righted  itself,  but  had  lost  ground 
perceptibly.  Columbia  was  ahead. 

"  Kah  !  rah !  rah !"  shouted  Minimus,  who  was  by 
this  time  in  the  spirit  of  the  thing.  "  C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a !" 

And,  with  that,  his  boat  sailed  in  triumphantly 
across  the  goal.  Poor  Yale,  circling  giddily,  was 
on  the  verge  of  swamping.  Minor  stopped  short 
with  a  look  of  bitter  wrath  upon  his  face. 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  7 

"  I  don't  care !  Hang  your  old  boat !  I  wouldn't 
be  so  mean  as  to  stand  up  for  a  college  where  my 
big  brother  didn't  go.  Anyhow,  I  spose  you1  re  going 
to  Columbia  when  you  grow  up.  If  you  do,  you 
needn't  speak  to  me." 

"  But,  Minor,"  began  Minimus,  quite  paralyzed 
by  this  injustice,  "  you  told  me  it  was  only  make- 
believe.  Let's  sail  the  race  again." 

"  It's  all  the  same.  You  don't  really  care  for 
Yale.  You'd  just  as  soon  go  to  Ilarmrd;  any 
way,"  went  on  Minor,  in  a  withering  tone.  "  You'd 
better.  I  think  they'd  like  you  there." 

Minimus  looked  as  if  tears  were  ready  to  come 
into  his  soft,  dark  eyes.  He  glanced  imploringly  at 
his  brother,  and  stood  flipping  the  end  of  his  switch 
into  the  water,  hoping  Minor  might  relent. 

"  I  don't  think  I'll  play  any  more  to-day,"  said 
Minor,  turning  away ;  "  perhaps  not  for  a  week. 
Come  Paul ;  come  Trot.  Let's  look  for  pitcher- 
plants." 

It  was  treacherous  of  us  to  desert  Minimus,  but 
for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  resist  bounding  up  to  fol 
low  when  any  one  goes  anywhere.  Hardly  had 
we  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill  before  Minor,  look 
ing  back  at  the  solitary  little  figure  in  the  crimson 
Tarn  o'  Shanter  cap,  standing  amid  the  rapids,  felt 
his  heart  melt  in  him. 

"  Hello,  Minny !  Come  up  here.  It's  dandy.  I 
saw  a  partridge  rise.  Don't  I  wish  I  had  a  gun  ?" 


8  BAR   HARBOR  DAYS. 

The  quarrel  bad  vanished  into  'thin  air.  By  and 
by,  when  we  returned  to  the  person  sitting  upon 
the  rock,  we  found  a  feast  of  pears  and  grapes  and 
biscuits  arranged  on  leaf-plates,  and  a  silver  cup 
with  which  to  quaff  the  water  of  the  brook.  You 
may  think  we  were  not  happy ! 

"  Ah !  me,"  the  person  said,  after  a  little  while. 

"  As  if  I  didn't  know  what  you  are  sighing  for!" 
said  Minor. 

"  I  know !"  chimed  in  Minimus.  "  It's  about 
going  back  to  town." 

"  I  don't  see  why  grown  people  should  care  so 
much,"  resumed  the  elder  boy.  "  They  don't  have 
to  go  to  school,  and  never  handle  an  oar  or  a  tennis- 
racquet  again  until  next  summer.  Or  take  the 
twenty-two  mile  walk,  or  touch  a  fly-rod.  I  only 
wisli  I'd  kept  a  journal  of  all  the  things  I've  done." 

"I've  read  your  journal,"  cried  out  Minimus. 
"  It  hasn't  anything  in  it  but  how  much  your  trout 
weighed  every  time,  and  your  tennis  scores,  and  the 
measure  of  fellows'  leg-muscles." 

"  Well,  that  will  be  better  than  nothing,  when 
we're  cooped  up  in  the  house  in  old  New  York,  and 
the  streets  are  full  of  snow  or  slush." 

"  Minor  is  right,"  said  the  person.  "  I've  known 
his  elders  to  find  fascination  in  reading  the  Maine 
game  laws,  and  the  height  of  the  various  mountains 
on  the  island,  when  a  village  paper  comes  to  them 
in  town.  Yes,  somebody  ought  to  have  written  it 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  9 

all  down ;  but  who  ?  That  is  the  question.  The 
truth  is,  we  are  abominable  idlers." 

"  Look  at  Dame  Trot,"  cried  out  Minimus.  "  See 
how  she  has  cocked  one  ear  up,  and  seems  to  be  un 
derstanding  all  we  say !" 

"  She  is  the  wisest  little  thing,"  said  Minor,  haul 
ing  me  over  to  him  by  one  leg  (Oh !  I  am  used  to 
such  indignities).  "  She  can  do  anything  but  speak, 
I'm  sure." 

That's  all  they  know  about  it.  I  wish  Paul 
could  testify  as  to  my  curtain  lectures !  For,  what 
ever  my  shortcomings,  I  never  let  slip  an  oppor 
tunity  of  permitting  my  dear  Paul  to  know  his 
faults ! 

"  Then  she  ought  to  write  out  our  summer  on  an 
island,"  said  Minimus.  "  Won't  you,  Trottens  dear  ? 
I  know  it  will  be  bully,  and  you've  been  everywhere 
witli  us.  What  shall  .we  call  it  ?  '  The  Memoirs  of 
Dame  Trot?'" 

While  they  were  chatting  thus,  an  idea  popped 
into  my  head.  Why,  indeed,  should  I  not  devote 
my  leisure  moments  to  this  task.  Of  course  I  con 
sulted  Paul.  That  was  what  we  were  busy  about 
when  we  ran  off  up  the  bank,  and  began  digging- 
together  in  the  soft  leaf -mould,  and  the  boys  thought 
we  had  found  a  muskrat's  hole.  Paul  was  not  alto 
gether  as  disapproving  of  the  scheme  as  I  had 
feared. 

"  While  I  should  hardly  call  you  actually  gifted, 


10  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

Trot,  my  clear,"  ho  said,  "  there  is  no  denying  you 
have  a  certain  facility  of  expression,  and  might 
succeed  in  interesting  the  average  reader  of  tran 
sient  literature.  That  is,"  he  went  on,  qualifying 
his  praise,  as  became  a  superior  creature,"  if  you  can 
bring  yourself  to  restrain  the  tendency  of  women 
writers  to  gush  and  wander  from  the  point.  When 
I  want  to  say  it's  a  fine  day,  for  instance,  thermom 
eter  so  many  degrees,  wind  southwest,  and  so  on,  I 
say  that,  and  stop.  You,  on  the  contrary,  would 
make  a  whole  page  of  it.  '  The  orb  of  day  arose 
majestically.  Balmy  zephyrs  sighed  among  the  leaf 
lets,'  and  all  that  kind  of  thing ;  hey,  Trot,  old  girl  ?" 

Paul  knows  that  if  there's  anything  I  can't  abide, 
it's  being  called  .old  girl.  To  begin  with,  it  is  low ; 
and  then  I  am  naturally  sensitive  about  the  differ 
ence  in  our  ages,  since  I  am  at  least  four  months  his 
elder.  But  I  had  to  be  satisfied  with  what  he  said 
about  my  writing.  He  also  promised  to  criticise  the 
chapters  as  I  finish  them ;  and,  though  I  don't  know 
that  I  exactly  fancy  his  doing  so,  he  means  well,  I 
am  sure. 

It  is  not  only  that  I  desire  to  put  down  what  we 
did  during  the  summer ;  certain  things  came  under 
my  observation  that  I  am  sure  nobody  else  saw.  A 
little  story  wove  itself  in  and  out  of  our  holiday  ex 
perience  which,  as  I  think  of  it,  seems  so  unreal  I'm 
afraid  it  may  float  away  altogether  into  mist  if  I 
don't  capture  it ! 


BAR  HAKBOR  DAYS.  H 

And  lastly,  I  desire  to  be  known  as  I  am !  Some 
day  those  boys  of  ours  may  read  these  pages,  and 
then,  too  late,  they  will  recognize  the  suppressed 
genius  they  used  to  maul  and  haul,  under  the  pet 
name  of  Dame  Trot ! 

Not  that  they  do  not  treat  me  kindly,  on  the 
whole.  Sometimes,  when  my  nerves  have  been  pe 
culiarly  racked  by  their  performances,  they  call  me 
to  them,  and  a:k  me  to  sit  in  their  laps,  while  they 
are  reading  "  King  Solomon's  Mines,"  or  "The 
White  Chief  of  the  Caffres  " — which  is  all  very  well 
in  theory ;  but  a  boy's  lap  is  no  good.  Just  wait  till 
they  get  interested  in  the  story,  and,  often  as  not, 
they  forget  you,  and  let  you  go  flop  between  their 
knees  upon  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THAT'S  a  very  poor  first  chapter,  Paul  says.  He 
thinks  I  should  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  tell  how 
we  came  to  live  upon  this  lovely  island.  To  do  so, 
I  shall  have  to  rely  a  good  deal  upon  what  I've 
heard  while  lying  around  on  laps,  or  on  rugs  with 
my  nose  in  between  the  andirons,  when  the  birch- 
wood  sparks  were  popping  so  I  couldn't  go  to  sleep. 

AVell,  it  seems  the  people  I  live  with  now  had 
lost  a  shepherd-dog  named  Colin  Clout,  and  they 
wanted  a  successor  to  take  with  them  to  the  coun 
try.  To  find  one,  the  whole  family  had  gone  in  a 
body  to  the  bench  show  in  the  spring,  and  had 
there  selected  each  a  different  specimen  of  dog  hu 
manity,  as  the  one  thing  needful  for  their  united 
happiness.  As  it  would  have  been  a  little  trouble 
some  to  travel  five  hundred  miles  by  rail  in  com 
pany  with  a  golden  collie,  a  Saint  Bernard,  a  yard 
or  so  of  Dachshund  with  lovely  pleading  eyes,  a 
Gordon  setter,  and  a  pair  of  terrier-pups  whose  eyes 
were  barely  open,  a  discussion  set  in  which  ended 
in  everybody's  declaring  he  didn't  care  a  bit  how 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  13 

the  matter  was  decided,  provided  everybody  else 
would  keep  his  temper. 

So  they  went  away  from  that  day's  exhibition 
without  any  dogs  at  all,  and  at  the  end  of  the  week 
had  agreed  to  invest  in  two  fox-terriers  of  conven 
iently  portable  dimensions. 

"  There  was  a  fellow  there,"  remarked  Minimus, 
reverting  to  the  bench  show,  "who  said  he  has 
some  beauties  at  his  house,  and  when  a  dawg  is 
wanted  for  a  family,  Jerry  Peters  is  my  man.  A 
father  himself,  and  would  scorn  to  tell  a  lie." 

"  Then  there  was  my  beery  one  in  velveteens," 
said  Minor,  "  who  said  he  keeps  a  terrier  at  the 
stable  that  he  will  sell  me  at  half  price ;  and  he 
know'd,  wen  he  seed  me  steppin'  up,  I  was  the 
party  for  that  tarrer." 

"  We  might  let  him  fetch  it  here  to  look  at,  any 
way,"  said  the  lady  who  belongs  to  our  boys.  That 
night  there  was  a  mysterious  ring  at  the  door-bell, 
and  the  maid  said  there  was  a  man  with  something 
in  his  pocket,  waiting  in  the  hall. 

The  something  in  his  pocket  proved  to  bo  a  pret 
ty,  shivery  little  creature,  who,  when  a  ball  was 
bounced  across  the  floor,  ran  after  and  caught  it 
with  the  greatest  animation.  He  was  a  fox-terrier 
pup,  in  color  pinky  white,  with  a  black-and-tan 
spot  around  one  eye,  and  a  mere  apology  for  a  tail. 
But  he  was  well-shaped  and  friendly,  and  the  boye 
begged  hard  to  keep  him ;  so  the  beery  one  said  ho 


14  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

would  let  him  go  for  twenty-five  dollars — that  he 
was  a  daisy,  worth  every  penny  of  his  price. 

Paul  Pry,  they  called  him  on  the  spot,  from  his 
habit  of  peering  into  every  corner  of  the  room. 
That  night  he  slept  in  a  wood -basket  behind  a 
Franklin  stove.  Kext  morning  he  was  found  sneez 
ing  dreadfully,  and  his  eyes  watered  all  the  time. 
They  treated  him  for  influenza ;  and,  on  Saturday, 
Minor,  who  was  going  to  visit  a  cousin  in  the  coun 
try,  took  Paul  with  him  in  a  fruit  basket,  for  change 
of  air.  On  Monday  morning  the  travellers  returned, 
Paul  sneezing  more  than  ever,  his  young  master 
looking  utterly  despondent. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with 
this  beast,"  he  said, "  but  when  we  got  there  the 
whole  family  seemed  to  be  offended.  They  hid 
away  their  dogs,  and  advised  me  to  keep  Paul 
locked  up  alone  until  I  should  start  back  to  town ; 
and  I  did.  He  howled  his  head  off;  and  I  was 
never  so  ashamed  in  all  my  life.  A  man  told  me 
I'd  better  drop  him  in  the  river.  And  I'll  never 
take  a  dog  visiting  again,  never !" 

Things  grew  worse  that  day.  Paul  drooped  and 
dwindled,  and  the  master  of  the  house  said  he  must 
be  taken  to  a  hospital  or  chloroformed.  Ah !  what 
a  dark  chapter  in  the  life  of  my  beloved!  As  I 
write  of  it  I  shudder. 

Then  the  boys  bundled  the  poor  sufferer  up  in 
one  of  their  own  old  baby- carriage  Avraps,  and  car- 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  15 

ried  him  to  the  "Society  for  the  Prevention  of 
Cruelty  to  Animals  "  for  advice.  They  felt  rather 
important ;  and,  in  some  vague  way,  expected  the 
officers  of  the  society  to  gather  around  them,  shed 
ding  tears  of  sympathy.  It  was  a  decided  blow  to 
have  one  man  only  look  up  above  his  newspaper, 
and,  after  hearing  their  story,  write  an  address  upon 
a  card,  and  dismiss  them  without  a  glance  at  Paul. 
This  address  directed  them,  however,  to  a  veteri 
nary  hospital  on  the  west  side  of  town.  Paul's 
queer  little  muzzle,  peeping  from  the  blanket,  mado 
the  way  seem  short,  and  they  trudged  along,  talking 
more  hopefully  than  before,  my  beloved  one  has 
since  told  me.  Paul  did  not  feel  particularly  cheer 
ful  when  he  found  out  what  was  to  be  his  fate. 
The  "  Yet,"  after  examining  him  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  way,  pronounced  it  a  case  of  well-advanced  dis 
temper,  which  accounted  for  the  alacrity  of  the 
beery  one  to  part  with  him.  Two  weeks  of  board 
and  treatment  at  the  hospital  would,  no  doubt, 
'•  pull  him  through."  You  might  have  pulled  him 
through  a  key-hole,  Paul  has  often  said  to  me,  when 
he  saw  his  destined  quarters.  A  dark  pen  in  an 
upper  room.  Some  straw  to  lie  on.  For  company, 
some  dogs  with  broken  legs,  and  a  setter  with  six 
little  pups,  boarders  like  himself,  and  each  party 
separated  from  the  others  by  high  partitions.  Pills 
twice  a  day,  forced  down  your  throat,  and  your  muz 
zle  held  until  you  swallowed  them !  No  squeals  al- 


10  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

lowed,  and  good  behavior  enforced  by  the  cracking 
of  an  odious  whip.  Poor  dear !  my  heart  bleeds  to 
think  of  it. 

It  was  during  this  depressing  phase  of  my  Paul's 
existence  that  a  coachman  brought  me  to  the  house 
where  Minor  and  Minimus  let  their  parents  live 
with  them.  There  was  both  doubt  and  caution  ex 
hibited  in  my  reception  at  that  house.  They  were 
charmed  with  me,  they  said,  but  would  rather  keep 
me  overnight,  and  observe  my  state  of  health,  be 
fore  deciding. 

My  first  performance,  on  being  left  there  by  the 
coachman,  was  to  set  out  by  myself  on  a  voyage  of 
discovery  from  top  to  bottom  of  the  house.  I  nosed 
into  every  closet,  examined  under  beds  and  couches, 
and  tried  the  coal-scuttle. 

"  You're  a  regular  Dame  Trot,"  the  lady  said — 
on  which  I  curled  up  in  a  sunny  spot  upon  a  carpet 
and  went  to  sleep.  There  I  lay,  peacefully  dream 
ing,  until  I  heard  a  noise  below  stairs  like  an  infant 
earthquake. 

"  It's  the  boys  come  home  from  school,"  said  the 
lady,  who  saw  me  jump. 

I  ran  to  the  top  of  the  stairs,  and  looked  over. 

"  Why,  it's  Paul  come  back !"  cried  somebody. 

"  It  isn't,  I  tell  you.  Don't  you  see  she's  got  a 
pair  of  black  spectacles  instead  of  one?  It's  the 
new  one.  Come  on  up,  and  see  her." 

T\vo  fellows,  one  a  head  and  shoulders  taller  than 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  17 

the  other,  rushed  up  the  stairs.  Each  of  them 
seized  me.  The  petting,  teasing,  and  cajoling  I  en 
dured  that  hour  was  a  fair  sample  of  what  my  life 
has  since  been  with  this  family.  Not  but  what  I 
will  allow  they  have  their  virtues.  Their  chairs 
are  pretty  soft,  and  they  never  skim  my  milk. 

Yery  soon,  I  found  out  I  was  to  go  upon  a  jour 
ney  to  live  in  a  new  house  they  were  building  on 
an  island.  I  heard  them  talk  of  Paul,  "  Paul  Pry," 
and  wondered  who  he  was ;  till,  at  last,  one  day, 
the  whole  story  of  the  two  fox-terriers  was  related 
to  a  guest,  and  my  heart  beat  high  with  the  knowl 
edge  that  somewhere  a  kindred  soul  was  waiting  to 
blend  with  mine.  But  when  ? 

"  The  Yet  says  Paul  is  nearly  well,"  said  Minor, 
returning  from  a  visit  to  my  future  lord,  "  and  the 
little  fellow  nearly  jumped  himself  to  pieces  in  his 
joy  at  seeing  me.  But  they  say  we  musn't  let  them 
be  together  for  a  week  or  so,  or  Trot  might  get  dis 
temper." 

So,  on  this  account,  I  suppose,  I  set  out  first,  with 
the  lady,  to  go  to  a  country  place  where  we  were 
to  spend  some  days  before  journeying  to  the  island. 

I  don't  know  if  any  one  ever  carried  you  in  a 
hand-basket  to  a  great  big  railway-station  in  New 
York !  It  is,  without  exception,  the  most  hateful, 
pushing,  struggling  place  I  ever  got  into ;  and  when 
we  reached  a  kind  of  wicket-gate,  on  our  way  to 
take  the  train,  there  was  a  man  there  who  was  an 
absolute  barbarian. 
2 


18  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  Sorry,  ladies,  but  positively  no  dogs  allowed  in 
the  passenger-coaches,"  was  what  he  said,  with  an 
attempt  at  a  fascinating  smile.  "  I  must  ask  you 
to  take  it  to  the  baggage-room.  Tickets,  please  " 
(to  the  people  who  were  crowding  on  our  heels). 
There  was  no  help  for  it.  We  were  forced  back  by 
the  throng,  and,  with  a  sorrowful  face,  my  mistress 
left  me  to  the  care  of  a  luggage-man,  who  prom 
ised,  in  the  most  fervent  way,  to  show  me  as  much 
attention  as  a  silver  dollar  could  allow  him  in  con 
science  to  expend. 

Oh!  that  dreadful  baggage -car,  and  oh!  that 
faithless  man.  He  was  going  to  stay  in  New  York, 
after  all ;  and  the  man  who  should  have  got  the  sil 
ver  dollar,  and  did  not,  was  as  cross  to  me  as  he 
could  be.  I  was  seized  roughly,  thrust  upon  the 
seat  of  a  leather-bottomed  chair,  and  in  two  min 
utes  off  went  the  train,  I  jostled  and  thrown  about 
by  every  movement.  Imagine  the  gloom  of  it,  the 
noise  of  it,  the  cold  heartlessness  of  those  creatures, 
who  laughed  coarsely  when  I  slid  about  on  the  slip 
pery  chair-cushion. 

But  this  was  nothing  to  what  happened  two  hours 
later,  when  we  reached  Bridgeport,  where  the  lug 
gage  was  transferred  to  another  train.  It  was  like 
a  day  of  doom.  Such  crashing  noises,  such  brutal 
observations,  such,  hurling  back  and  forth  of  huge 
trunks  and  boxes,  such  utter  jforgetfulness  of  me. 
And  then  I  heard — oh !  welcome  sound — a  woman's 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  10 

voice  upon  the  platform,  earnestly  thanking  a  gentle 
man  for  some  service  he  had  volunteered  to  render. 

It  was  my  mistress,  and  the  gentleman  a  friend 
who  had  promised  to  rescue  me  from  impending 
ruin.  He  was  a  tall  and  stately  man,  and  when  he 
stooped  down  and  took  me  to  nestle  in  the  hollow 
of  a  warm  coat-sleeve,  and  soothed  my  trembling 
with  kind  words  and  strokings,  I  wanted  to  cry  for 
gratitude.  He  carried  me  into  the  other  baggage- 
car,  and  there  stayed  with  me  until  the  train  was 
about  to  start. 

As  he  left,  a  woman  pushing  a  perambulator  be 
fore  her  came  running  along  the  platform.  She 
had  barely  time  to  take  out  the  occupant,  a  very 
sleepy  baby  with  a  pink  thumb  in  its  mouth,  and 
fly  back,  when  the  men,  seizing  the  perambulator, 
whisked  it  in  beside  me,  and  our  train  moved  off. 
There  I  was,  alone,  unseen.  If  anybody  blames  me 
for  yielding  to  temptation,  I  ask  him  to  put  himself 
for  a  moment  in  my  place.  Oh !  that  warm  and 
cosy  nest  vacated  by  the  passenger  with  the  pink 
thumb  in  her  mouth !  With  a  light  spring,  I 
jumped  from  a  trunk  into  the  very  middle  of  the 
blessed  baby's  pillow.  I  glided  down  beneath  a 
blanket  embroidered  with  rosebuds  and  green  leaves ; 
somebody  threw  a  travelling  tarpaulin  over  the  per 
ambulator.  I  remember  nothing  more ! 

When  I  awakened  from  a  delicious  sleep,  the  train 
hands  had  found  me  out,  and  were  laughing  good- 


20  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

naturedly  as  they  took  off  the  tarpaulin.  I  sneaked 
out,  and  at  the  next  stopping-place  was  handed  to 
my  mistress.  We  had  reached  our  journey's  end ; 
and  I  don't  believe  the  baby  with  the  thumb  was 
ever  the  wiser  or  the  worse  for  my  performance.  I 
pass  over  my  adventures  until,  a  week  later,  we 
found  ourselves  steaming  into  a  long,  dark,  gloomy 
tunnel  of  a  place,  which  people  said  was  Boston.  I 
had  heard  of  Boston,  and  would  not  have  believed 
it  looked  like  that,  until  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes. 
But  this  is  the  advantage  of  travel ;  you  learn  to 
judge  for  yourself  instead  of  trusting  to  exagger 
ated  statements.  I  could  not  wonder  to  hear  my 
mistress  say,  that,  after  meeting  somebody  whose 
name  I  did  not  catch,  and  getting  something  to  eat, 
she  intended  to  go  on  at  once  to  Mount  Desert. 

As  we  got  out  of  the  train,  and  were  looking 
around  that  Boston,  there  came  toward  us  a  boy 
holding  under  his  arm  a  dog  (exactly  like  me,  I 
thought),  and  attended  by  a  maid.  The  boy  was 
streaked  with  coal-dust,  and  was  eating  peanuts. 
When  he  saw  us  he  rushed  forward  with  an  excla 
mation  of  delight,  and  threw  both  arms  around  the 
lady's  neck,  letting  my  double  slide  upon  the  plat 
form.  They  were  Minimus  and  Paul,  who  by  train 
from  New  York  had  reached  Boston  an  hour  before 
ourselves. 

All  my  attention  was  concentrated  upon  my  des 
tined  comrade.  Through  his  veil  of  grime  I  fan- 


BAR  HARDOK  DAYS.  21 

cied  I  saw  a  sympathetic  gaze  fixed  on  me.  I 
longed  to  be  near  him,  that  I  might  pour  out  all 
my  feelings.  But  no !  we  were  not  allowed  to  rub 
noses  even.  Minimus  said  the  Yet  thought  it  would 
be  wiser  to  keep  the  pups  apart  until  Paul's  cough 
had  wholly  left  him;  and  Paul,  confirming  this, 
gave  a  croupy  little  choke. 

We  were  put  into  a  carriage,  on  opposite  seats, 
and  during  a  joggling  drive,  we  knew  not  where, 
conversed  by  glances  only.  Then  we  came  to  an 
other  long,  narrow,  smoky,  crowded,  perspiring 
Boston,  with  people  carrying  hand-bags  and  tread 
ing  on  each  other's  heels,  and  trains  drawn  up  be 
hind  a  paling.  It  was  the  close  of  a  warm  May 
day,  and  there  was  no  life  in  the  atmosphere.  Every 
body  looked  pale  and  hurried,  and  everything  smelt 
stale.  The  first  thing  was  to  visit  the  baggage- 
room  and  provide  accommodation  for  Paul  Pry  and 
myself  during  the  long  night's  journey  we  were  to 
take.  By  good  luck,  we  found  a  man  who  was 
neither  gruff  nor  grasping.  lie  even  patted  us, 
and  took  Minimus  across  to  a  grocery  where  they 
purchased  two  Wooden  boxes.  Mine  was  labelled 
"  Greenfield's  Crystal  Starch,"  and  Paul's  was  "  Ex 
tra  Superior  Huckleberries,  Canned." 

Fed  and  rested,  we  lapsed  into  sweet  sleep,  lying 
on  clean  hay  at  the  bottom  of  our  cages.  It  was  a 
blessed  time,  for  too  soon  again  began  that  terrible 
racket  and  rumble  of  the  train. 


22  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

Out  of  the  long,  dark  pent-house  we  sped  into 
the  freshness  of  twilight  air.  But  don't  talk  to 
me  of  the  delights  of  travel !  It  is  a  very  small 
compensation  for  all  I  underwent  to  be  able  to  say 
that  I  have  seen  two  Bostons  ! 

And  that  night,  that  night !  I  heard  Minimus 
telling  another  boy,  some  time  later,  that  he  thought 
it  jolly  fun  to  "lark  it  on  the  sleeper  going  down 
to  Mount  Desert !" 

There  was  nothing  larky  in  our  experience,  ex 
cept  getting  up  at  daybreak  to  be  put  out  at  Ban- 
gor.  Paul  whimpered  and  moaned  the  whole  night 
through.  I  could  hear  him,  although  not  close 
enough  to  speak.  When  the  first  pink  streaks  of 
dawn  came  into  the  horizon,  I  strained  my  eyes  to 
see  him,  and  tried  to  let  him  know  I  was  near. 
Then  our  train  stopped  and,  without  an  apology, 
rattled,  creaked,  groaned,  and  dislocated  itself  a 
dozen  times  in  succession,  and  at  last  stood  still. 
The  people  in  the  sleeper  were  not  disturbed,  but 
we  in  the  baggage-car  were  seized,  carried  out,  and 
dumped  upon  the  floor  of  a  room  near  the  buffet. 
I  heard  them  say  something  about  transfer  to  the 
car  for  Bar  Harbor,  but  was  too  sick  and  wretched 
to  care.  Mustering  up  courage  to  stand  feebly  on 
my  hind-legs  and  peep  over  at  Paul's  box,  I  saw  my 
future  liege  looking  too  woe-begone  for  words.  lie 
had  actually  shrivelled  in  the  night. 

"  Oh  !  Paul  Pry,"  I  said  to  him, "  how  miserable 


BAB   HARBOH. 


BAH  HARBOR   DAYS.  23 

we  both  are !  But  have  you  never  heard  that  the 
darkest  hour  is  just  before  the  dawn?" 

Paul  cheered  up  a  very  little,  and  then  suggested 
that  if  we  were  both  to  yelp  together  it  might  ac 
complish  something — it  would  at  least  relieve  our 
overburdened  hearts. 

I  agreed,  and  I  flatter  myself  our  morning  con 
cert  has  never  been  equalled  in  Bangor.  "We  cer 
tainly  got  more  unkind  criticisms  from  the  railway 
people  than  we  looked  for.  But  it  brought  our 
mistress,  who,  hearing  us  in  her  stateroom  in  the 
Pullman,  dressed  in  wild  haste  and  tore  to  our  relief. 
Warm  milk  from  the  buffet,  and  a  little  sympathy, 
supported  us  through  the  remainder  of  the  journey. 
By  eight  o'clock  that  morning  we  were  freed  from 
our  prison-cells,  wrapped  in  warm  shawls,  and  car 
ried  on  board  a  little  steamer  that  started  briskly 
out  upon  the  waters  of  a  glorious  bay. 

"VVe  had  come  into  a  new  world — a  world  of  blue 
and  dancing  waves,  of  blue  and  tranquil  sky,  of 
bluer  misty  mountains  towering  on  the  far  horizon 
beyond  the  water-line.  Ere  long  came  a  view  of 
wooded  islands  standing  like  sentries  before  a  vil 
lage  of  many  scattered  houses  and  hotels.  The  little 
steamer  whistled  fiercely  as,  passing  between  two 
of  these  islands,  we  approached  a  broad  and  stately 
wharf. 

"  Hello !"  said  Minimus,  in  a  tone  of  some  excite 
ment.  "  There's  Jonesy  on  the  pier." 


2-i  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

"  Jonesy  T  said  his  mother,  vaguely.  "  Who  is 
he?" 

"Well!  Don't  know  Jonesy!  He's  the  half 
back  on  our  team.  He's  had  whooping-cough,  and 
came  here  to  get  well.  Won't  we  go  it,  now !" 


CHAPTEE  III. 

ON  the  wharf  my  mistress  called  a  blackboard,  and, 
although  she  had  hard  work  in  inducing  Minimus 
to  part  with  his  beloved  Jonesy  long  enough  to 
visit  their  hotel,  finally  succeeded  in  stowing  us  all 
upon  the  seats.  Paul,  as  I  have  said,  was  not  as 
beautiful  then  as  now,  and  in  this  early  morning 
light,  after  the  long,  hard  journey,  was  the  most 
dejected  little  creature  I  ever  beheld.  lie  had 
hardly  spirit  enough  left  to  hold  his  head  up,  and 
shivered  so  that  my  mistress  wrapped  him  in  a  rug 
and  clasped  him  in  her  arms,  telling  him  to  cheer 
up,  for  his  trials  were  at  an  end.  But  Paul  contin 
ued  limp,  and  well  he  might,  as  you  will  see  when 
I  pursue  my  story. 

"We  drove  along  a  straggling  street,  lined  with 
huge  hotels  and  shops  and  bazaars — all  of  these 
structures  painted  in  different  colors,  with  towers 
and  bay-windows,  and  arcades  and  verandas  stuck 
on  anywhere  it  occurred  to  the  builder  to  put 
them,  without  architectural  rhyme  or  reason.  Ev 
erything  was  clean,  trim,  and  smart  as  new  coats  of 


26  BAR   HARBOR    DAYS. 

paint  and  kalsomine  could  make  it.  The  shop  peo- 
pie  were  arranging  a  tempting  supply  of  wares  in 
their  windows,  open  to  public  gaze.  Books,  bon 
bons,  soda-water,  bric-a-brac,  flowers,  Turkish  curi 
osities,  Florida  curiosities,  draperies,  millinery,  ten 
nis  racquets  and  caps,  all  bespoke  preparations  for  a 
season  of  summer  pleasuring  in  a  crowded  and  free 
handed  watering-place.  It  made  us  young  ones 
prick  up  our  ears  to  hear  my  mistress  say  how  many 
pounds  of  bonbons  alone  had  been  sold  at  Bar  Har 
bor  the  preceding  season.  It  seemed  like  the  Golden 
Age  come  to  reign  on  earth.  I  knew,  then,  how  it 
was  possible  for  people  to  be  so  happy  as  they  are 
said  to  be  in  this  most  favored  spot. 

Not  even  the  novelty  of  our  surroundings  could, 
however,  distract  my  attention  long  from  the  con 
templation  of  P.  Pry,  Esq.,  as  he  lay  upon  my  lady's 
knee.  Although  I  could  not  in  justice  admit  to  my 
self  that  on  so  brief  an  acquaintance  I  loved,  I  felt 
strongly  drawn  to  him.  "When  I  gazed  at  his 
thoughtful  Roman  profile,  at  the  black  circle  in 
vading  one  of  his  eyes,  at  his  sparse  covering  of 
hair,  at  his  spotty  ears  cocked  up  so  comically,  I 
said  within  myself,  Dame  Trot,  stand  firm!  heed 
not  the  scoifing  of  the  idle  world !  beneath  yon  un 
prepossessing  exterior  lurks  a  true  and  gallant  nat 
ure.  It  is  better  to  be  good  than  beautiful ;  so  I 
once  heard  Minimus  read  out  from  his  copy-book. 

In  this  dawn  of  my  subsequent  attachment  to 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  27 

dear  Paul  you  may  conceive  my  feelings  when,  di 
rectly  after  our  arrival  at  the  hotel,  the  proprietor 
came  to  my  mistress  with  a  long  face. 

lie  had  nothing  against  the  little  critter  himself, 
the  proprietor  wished  to  say,  but  there  was  them  in 
the  house  as  said  they  hadn't  ca'allated  to  hev  their 
dawgs  run  resks. 

"  Good  gracious  !"  said  my  mistress ;  "  we  might 
as  weir  have  brought  scarlet  fever  or  whooping- 
cough  as  Paul  Pry.  Of  course  I  never  meant  him 
to  go  with  other  dogs.  I  told  them  to  put  him  in 
the  stable  as  soon  as  wre  arrived." 

In  came  Minimus  with  his  tale  of  woe.  Paul, 
having  declined  to  stay  in  the  stable,  had  gone  on  a 
voyage  of  discovery  for  himself ;  had  been  snapped 
at  by  a  paralytic  poodle  belonging  to  one  of  the 
boarders ;  had  driven  a  fat  pug  belonging  to  an 
other  boarder  to  the  verge  of  apoplexy  by  his 
pranks ;  had  finally  taken  refuge  in  the  bedroom  of 
a  choleric  old  gentleman,  to  be  kicked  out  witli 
words  of  wrath,  and  was  now  yelping  on  the  stairs. 

For  two  days  the  problem  of  what  to  do  with 
Paul  continued  to  rack  the  family  mind.  I  saw  him 
going  for  melancholy  walks  with  the  maid  or  Min 
imus  tugging  at  his  leash,  Paul  making  every  effort 
to  go  back,  or  sidewise,  or  any  way  but  forward, 
lie  moped,  he  dwindled,  he  wailed,  whenever  left 
alone.  What  was  the  remedy  ?  Until  we  were 
able  to  go  into  our  own  cottage,  then  preparing  for 


28  BAR   HARBOR   DAYS. 

us,  Paul  was  destined  to  make  himself  and  every 
body  around  him  thoroughly  uncomfortable. 

At  last,  one  morning,  a  boy  came  to  my  mistress 
when,  after  exercising  Paul,  she  was  entirely  out  of 
breath.  He  was  a  boy  no  one  could  fail  to  look  at 
twice,  with  large  eyes  of  the  color  of  violets,  and  a 
tangled  mat  of  golden  curls  under  his  old  straw  hat. 
A  sensitive  face  and  an  honest  one ;  the  violet  eyes 
meeting  yours  fearlessly,  and  yet  veiled  at  moments 
as  if  with  a  shadow  unexplained. 

"  Poor  little  doggie,"  said  the  lad,  in  a  curiously 
soft  voice,  "he  seems  kind  o'  restless  with  the 
string." 

"  He  is  a  poor  little  doggie,  sure  enough,"  said 
my  mistress.  "  How  would  you  like  to  come  to  this 
beautiful  island  for  the  first  time  in  your  life  and 
spend  your  whole  time  locked  up  in  a  dark  room 
or  led  out  at  the  end  of  a  string  '?" 

"  I  heard  about  the  little  fellow  when  I  took 
grandmammy's  chickens  to  sell  at  the  hotel.  I — " 
here  he  hesitated,  and  the  color  came  into  his 
cheek.  "  I  wish  /  could  keep  him  for  a  bit.  There 
ain't  nothing  to  hurt  him  down  our  way." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  where  do  you  live  ?"  asked 
my  mistress,  fired  by  a  sudden  thought,  as  the  lad 
stooped  to  pat  Paul,  who,  rejoiced  at  a  friendly 
overture,  went  over  immediately  on  his  back  in  the 
dusty  roadway. 

I  was  in  the  arms  of  Minimus  just  then.   "We  were 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  29 

taking  our  airing,  after  this  fashion  unsatisfactory 
to  all  concerned. 

"  I'm  Christy  Perkins,  ma'am,"  answered  the 
stranger,  simply ;  "  most  anybody  on  the  island 
would  tell  you  'bout  me.  I  live  with  grandmam- 
my,  down  yonder  at  "Witch  Cove,  they  call  it,  close 
on  to  Fernley  Hall.  You'd  pass  near  it  any  day 
when  you'd  drive  down  to  Great  Head.  Folks  often 
gets  out  o'  their  buckboards  and  comes  down  to  see 
our  rocks.  But  they  don't  do  so  as  much  since  Mr. 
Smith  he  put  up  a  board  to  warn  off  trespassers. 
Grandmammy  takes  in  washin'  in  summer-time  for 
the  rusticators,  and  she  sells  her  eggs  and  chickens, 
and  I  pick  berries.  Everybody  knows  me,  ma'am, 
and  I'd  be  good  to  him.  He  could  run  loose  all  day 
long.  It's  beautiful  down  our  way,  folks  thinks. 
There's  a  bit  of  beach  where  he  could  play,  and  lots 
of  rocks." 

"  And  what  would  grandmammy  say  ?" 

"  She  won't  mind,  ma'am.  She  don't  never  mind 
when  I  go  out  or  come  in,  or  what  I  do,  long  as  the 
Avork  is  regular.  He  could  sleep  on  the  foot  of  my 
bed,  too." 

His  face  grew  brilliant  with  animation.  Evident 
ly  his  whole  soul  was  in  the  project. 

"  "Well,  Christy,"  said  my  mistress,  after  a  mo 
ment's  thought,  "  I  will  gladly  let  you  take  him, 
and  pay  you  for  his  board.  No  meat  to  eat,  mind 
you,  and  not  much  of  anything  but  milk.  But,  to 


30  BAR   HARBOR   DAYS. 

satisfy  myself  that  grandmammy  is  in  favor  of  our 
arrangement,  my  little  boy  and  I  will  drive  down 
to  Witch  Cove  this  afternoon  and  see  you." 

"  And  bring  him,  too  ?  said  the  lad,  with  eager 
eyes.  "Oh,  that's  nice!  Please  don't  mind  her, 
ma'am  ;  she  don't  mean  anything  by  it,  but  she's 
kind  o'  cross  an'  cranky-like  to  strangers." 

AVe  took  a  "  cut-under  " — that's  the  Maine  vernac 
ular  for  an  uncovered  carriage  with  wheels  turning 
directly  beneath  the  front  seat — and  I  sat  in  my 
mistress's  lap  behind,  while  Minimus  and  Paul  Pry 
perched  beside  the  driver.  When  we  asked  the  way 
to  Witch  Cove  the  man  looked  rather  puzzled. 

"  Fernley  Hall,  ma'am,  they  call  it  now,  since 
them  rich  city  folks  built  their  fine  house  there. 
A  mint  o'  money  they've  spent  upon  the  place, 
gradin'  and  diggin'  up  the  boulders,  and  turfin' 
down  to  the  water's  edge.  Why,  there's  a  thou 
sand  dollar's  worth  o'  loam  ef  there's  a  cent  put 
onto  their  tennis  court,  an'  turf  an'  blastin'  extry. 
I  ought  to  know,  for  I  was  to  work  down  there 
myself  all  last  year  a'most,  after  I  cum  off  the  mack 
erel  fleet  with  a  weakness  in  my  chest." 

"  No,  I  don't  wish  to  go  to  Fernley  Hall  to-day," 
said  my  mistress,  smiling,  "  I  merely  want  to  find 
out  where  Mrs.  Perkins  lives — the  grandmother  of 
little  Christy." 

"  Excuse  me  for  kinder  takin'  a  liberty,  ma'am," 
said  the  driver,  who  was  a  good-natured,  soft- voiced 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  31 

kind  of  a  man.  "If  you're  goin'  to  get  the  old 
woman  to  do  work  for  you  the  best  way's  to  send 
her  word  by  Christy.  She's  straight  enough,  and 
tends  to  her  washin'  regular ;  but  she's  an  awful 
hard  old  customer  to  talk  to." 

"  Then  she  does  live  at  Witch  Cove  ?"  pursued 
my  mistress. 

"It's  a  kinder  curious  story,"  answered  the 
man,  settling  for  a  comfortable  gossip,  as  we  rolled 
along  a  beautiful  smooth  road,  keeping  in  sight  the 
water.  "Ever  since  I  kin  remember,  and  I  was 
born  and  bred  on  the  island,  Widow  Perkins's  folks 
hev  owned  that  bit  o'  property.  It's  a  lot,  'bout  two 
acres,  I  guess,  dovetailed  into  the  Fernley  Hall  place, 
just  where  you  kin  see  it  from  the  grand  piazzy. 
The  rocks  there  are  reckoned  fine,  and  there's  a 
cave  on  the  shore  beyond  that's  awful  pretty  at  low 
tide.  The  rest  is  mostly  wild  land,  'cept  one  little 
bit  of  a  garden  spot  where  she  gets  her  vegetables, 
and  a  grass-patch  for  her  cow." 

"  Why  do  they  call  it  Witch  Cove,"  interrupted 
Minimus,  who  was  fond  of  scenting  out  romances 
promising  a  germ  of  the  sensational.  "Is  she  a 
witch  herself  ?" 

"  She's  enough  of  a  crank  to  be  one,  that's  a  fact. 
But  the  name  was  to  the  place  when  my  great 
grandfather  came  here,  cabin-boy  off  a  ship  from 
Nova  Scotia,  an'  'lowed  he'd  settle.  In  his  time 
there  was  a  reg'lar  witch- woman  had  her  cabin 


32  UAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

where  the  parlor  chimney's  built  to  Fernley  Hall. 
Half  Indian,  half  French,  she  was.  Perkins's  folks 
got  their  land  from  her..  She  always  said  she  never 
would  die  in  her  bed,  that  witch-woman  did.  Sure 
enough,  she  was  drowned,  and  they  found  her  long 
afterwards  down  on  the  shore  of  Ironbound  Island ; 
know'd  her  by  the  ring  she  wore — a  red  stone,  that 
winked  and  blazed  like  fire,  'twas  said." 

"  What  became  of  the  ring  ?"  asked  the  little  boy, 
whose  flesh  began  to  creep  agreeably. 

"  Oh !  they  couldn't  get  it  off,  and  it  was  buried 
with  her." 

"  Is  that  true  ?"  asked  Minimus,  drawing  a  long 
breath  of  satisfaction. 

"  I  got  it  from  my  grandfather.  His  father  was 
one  of  the  party  that  found  her  when  they  went 
ashore  at  Ironbound,  one  November  night,  to  seek 
shelter  from  a  gale." 

"  What  did  your  great-grandfather  do  for  a  liv 
ing  ?" 

u  Fished,  and  went  to  sea,  like  the  rest  of  us.  He 
was  a  fine  old  standard.  Never  knew  a  day's  ill 
ness  in  his  life.  Lived  to  ninety-one,  and  brought 
up  thirteen  children,  all  buried  in  the  graveyard 
over  yonder." 

"  Tell  me  some  more  about  the  witch-woman, 
please." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  there's  much  I  want  to 
say.  She  had  a  son,  a  hunter,  over  to  Moosehead 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  33 

Lake.  After  she  was  drowned  off  the  cliff,  her  cabin 
took  fire  and  burned  down.  Other  folks  claimed 
the  land,  and  when  her  son  came  back  here  with  his 
wife,  to  settle,  they  'lowed  him  the  point  where  Wid 
ow  Perkins  lives  now.  There  he  built  him  a  little 
house,  and  his  wife  and  baby  stayed  in  it  while  he 
went  off  on  long  huntin'  trips  on  the  mainland.  He 
was  killed  in  a  row  with  a  half-breed  guide,  and  his 
wife  moped  dreadful  after  him.  When  she  died  her 
girl  married  Perkins,  who  was  a  stranger  in  these 
parts — a  hunter,  like  the  father.  Perkins  warn't 
never  here  long  enough  for  people  to  neighbor  up 
to  him,  so  I've  heard  my  father  say.  A  queer  fel 
low,  and  none  too  kind  to  his  wife." 

"  And  there  were  children  ?"  asked  my  mistress, 
who  had  begun  to  take  interest  in  this  rather  wof  ul 
history. 

"  That's  the  part  I  know,  from  my  own  knowl 
edge,"  said  the  driver,  reluctantly.  "  If  ever  there 
was  a  lot  of  young  rascals  born  and  bred  'twas  them 
three  oldest  Perkins  lads.  There  warn't  one  of  'em 
but  what  shipped  to  foreign  parts  because  that  little 
cabin  on  Witch  Cove  was  too  hot  to  hold  him,  as 
the  sayin'  is.  She  was  a  hard  woman,  but,  first  and 
last,  she's  led  a  hard  life.  She's  hard,  but  square" 
he  concluded,  devoting  himself  for  the  moment  to 
his  horse,  who  shied  at  an  imaginary  foe  in  a  bush 
upon  the  roadside. 

"  How  do  you  mean  that  Christy's  grandmammy 
3 


34:  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

is  square  2"  asked  the  little  boy,  who  had  a  fashion 
of  dwelling  on  remarks  in  general  conversation  af 
ter  other  people  had  let  them  go.  "  She  must  be  a 
very  queer-looking  person.  I  hope  we  are  going  to 
see  her." 

"  She's  honest.  That's  what  I  mean  to  say,  young 
man,  and  it's  a  thing  we  islanders  set  store  by.  To 
hear  the  capers  them  Perkins  boys  cut,  you  wouldn't 
believe  an  ounce  of  her  blood  was  in  their  veins.  I 
was  shipmate  with  the  second  son  myself  once,  on 
a  voyage  to  the  Bahamas,  and  a  bad  lot  he  was, 
through  and  through." 

"  Where  are  they  now  ?  Did  they  turn  pirates  ?" 
asked  Minimus. 

"  In  Davy  Jones's  locker,  every  mother's  son  of 
'em.  When  news  came  that  first  one,  then  the 
other,  was  lost  at  sea — then  that  the  third,  'Zekiel, 
had  jumped  overboard  in  a  spree  in  harbor  at  New 
Orleans — the  old  woman  never  cried  a  drop.  She 
just  shut  her  mouth  grim,  and  hoed  up  her  potato- 
patch  with  a  will." 

"  How  came  she  to  get  Christy,  then  ?  Oh !  I 
hope  he  wasn't  the  son  of  one  of  those  bad  men." 

"  Christy  !  Well,"  said  the  man,  irrelevantly, 
"  everybody  likes  little  Christy.  As  nice  a  boy  as 
ever  drew  breath — Git  up,  you  Buck !  What  do 
you  mean  by  cocking  up  your  ears  at  that  old 
stump  i"1 

"  Goodness !"  said  my  mistress,  as  Buck  began 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  35 

backing  across  the  road  in  the  direction  of  a  pre 
cipitous  hillside,  "  I  hope  he's  not  going  to  do  this 
every  time  we  meet  a  stump." 

"  Never  you  fear,  ma'am,"  said  the  driver,  "  he 
knows  just  as  well  as  you  do  that  stump's  a  stump. 
But  he  wants  to  be  took  notice  of.  Git  up,  you 
Buck." 

I  sympathized  with  Buck.  Often  had  I  barked — 
once  had  I  chewed  the  embroidery  off  my  lady's 
dressing-slipper — for  the  very  self-same  reason.  But 
when  we  got  into  the  middle  of  the  road  again  and 
went  on  at  a  whizzing  pace,  I  felt  some  curiosity  to 
hear  the  conversation  resumed  between  Minimus 
and  the  driver.  I  had  not  long  to  wait. 

"  Was  it  Christy's  father,  or  his  mother,  who  be 
longed  to  Widow  Perkins  ?"  asked  the  boy,  persist 
ently. 

"  His  father,  sonny,"  answered  the  man.  "  The 
widow's  youngest ;  a  fine,  handsome  fellow,  straight 
as  a  pine ;  Ned,  his  name  was  ;  the  best  fisherman, 
the  best  shot  anywhere  about  here.  Never  would 
ha'  thought  he  came  out  of  the  same  nest  as  them 
three  varmints,  his  brothers.  When  he  was  nine 
teen  year  old,  married  little  Nancy  Judson,  from 
Rockport ;  pretty  as  pink  shoes,  she  was. — You, 
Buck,  ha'  done  your  nonsense! — That's  Fernley 
Hall,  down  yonder,  ma'am  —  see  it  through  the 
opening  between  the  trees.  Splendid  site.  Mr. 
Smith  paid  a  round  price  for  them  six  acres  on  the 


36  CAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

shore.  Best  sale  ever  made  at  the  Harbor,  people 
say.  Boston  architect  (he  pronounced  it  archytect), 
first-class  gardener,  stabling  for  eight  horses,  and 
the  chairs  and  sofys  framed  in  pure  gold,  so  they 
say.  Why,  I  see  one  oil-painting  go  in  that  hall 
door  myself  that  measured  ten  foot  from  eend  to 
eend.  Two  pyanners,  a  cat-boat,  two  row-boats,  and 
a  canoe.  That  young  Smith  chap's  dreadful  shy  o' 
water,  I've  heerd  tell,  'less  he's  in  a  steamboat  with 
a  band  of  music  and  plenty  o'  champagne,  and  then 
he  most  in  gineral  keeps  inside.'' 

"  But  I  am  surprised,"  said  my  mistress,  "  that 
Mr.  Smith  didn't  buy  out  the  Widow  Perkins.  His 
money  would  have  been  a  fortune  to  the  old  woman, 
and  she  could  have  educated  Christy.  Her  little 
cottage,  hanging  to  the  rocks  over  there,  must  be  in 
line  with  their  drawing-room  windows." 

"  Buy  her  out !  Money  couldn't  do  it,  ma'am," 
exclaimed  the  driver,  with  some  vehemence.  "  It's 
common  talk  how  Mr.  Smith -has  offered  her  to 
name  her  price.  The  madam  first  talked  herself 
hoarse,  and  then  cried  herself  sick  about  it,  but 
they  could  no  more  move  Mrs.  Perkins  than  they 
could  take  up  Green  Mountain  and  toss  it  into  the 
sea." 

"  She  must  be  an  old  woman,  and — you  said  her 
youngest  son  is  dead,  also  ?" 

"N-o,  ma'am,"  the  driver  replied,  hesitating. 
"  The  truth  is,  we  natives  don't  talk  much  about 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  37 

Ned  Perkins.  It's  a  kinder  sore  subject.  lie  went 
to  school  with  me,  and  we  sailed  a  voyage  together, 
and  I  thought  I  knew  him  well.  If  anybody  had 
told  me  disgrace  would  come  near  Ned  Perkins,  I'd 
ha'  thrown  the  lie  into  their  teeth.  .  .  .  But  he's  gone 
— gone  away  from  his  mother,  and  his  poor  little 
wife,  Nancy  Judson  that  was,  lies  in  her  grave,  heart 
broken.  There  ain't  a  living  soul  to-day  would  dare 
to  go  to  Widow  Perkins  and  ask  whether  Ned's 
alive  or  dead.  Git  up,  you  Buck." 

A  wind  from  the  sea  came  up  and  moaned 
among  the  pines.  Often,  when  the  sky  was  blue 
and  stainless,  the  summer  sun  shining  so  that  warm 
scents  arose  from  the  flowery  fields,  we  used  to  hear 
that  moaning  wind  at  Mount  Desert.  • 

We  drove  past  the  gravelled  entrance  of  Mr. 
Smith's  avenue,  past  his  porter's  lodge,  with  the 
golden  letters  over  the  gate  announcing  Fernley 
Hall,  and,  to  reach  the  shore,  took  a  rough  country 
lane  on  the  outskirts  of  the  millionaire's  domain. 

The  widow's  cottage,  built  of  spruce  boards  sil 
vered  by  time,  was  roofed  with  logs  of  unhewn 
birch,  tufted  with  moss  and  lichen.  Blending  witli 
the  gray  of  granite,  and  backed  by  a  dark  mass  of 
fir-trees,  it  seemed  part  and  parcel  of  the  rocky 
coast — the  shell  of  some  secretive  animal,  who  pres 
ently,  lifting  a  lid,  would  extend  a  long,  thin  arm  in 
search  of  prey.  The  cliff  on  which  it  stood,  seamed 
by  a  hundred  fissures,  yawned  near  the  verge,  to 

432247 


38  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

reveal  a  black  abyss,  where  frothy  lines  of  surf 
came  stealing  or  swirling  in,  according  to  the  tem 
per  of  the  sea. 

A  poor  place  to  bring  tip  a  child  in,  you  would 
say ;  but,  at  the  noise  of  wheels,  there  was  Christy's 
sunny  head  popping  up  between  the  rocks  down  on 
the  shore,  and  immediately  he  came,  nimbly  as  a 
goat  would,  up  the  sheer  face  of  the  cliff,  a  look  of 
brilliant  happiness  upon  his  face.  On  his  shoulder 
sat  a  tame  squirrel,  who,  at  sight  of  Paul  and  me, 
skurried  down  from  his  post  and  ran  away,  never 
pausing  till  he  had  reached  the  peak  of  the  cottage- 
roof,  whence  he  looked  on  us  disdainfully. 

"  Silly  Billy !"  cried  his  master.  "  You  will  be 
better  friends  with  nice  little  doggie  soon.  Please, 
may  I  keep  him  now  ?" 

"  Have  you  asked  grandmammy  ?"  said  my  mis 
tress. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am.  She  said  I  might  do  as  Pd  a 
mind  to,  so  long  as  she  ain't  bothered.  We've  got 
milk  a  plenty.  I  milk  old  Suke  myself,  and  he  can 
have  it  warm." 

We  looked  about  in  vain  for  some  trace  of  life  in 
the  lonely  habitation  besides  that  afforded  by  Chris 
ty,  his  squirrel  Billy,  and  the  red-nosed  cow  grazing 
at  her  tether  on  a  patch  of  cleared  ground  at  the 
back.  Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  grandmammy 
appeared.  She  was  a  stern  old  woman,  tall  and 
straight,  her  face  weather-beaten  and  wizened,  her 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  30 

eyes  piercing  bright.  "When  my  mistress  spoke  to 
her,  civilly  enough,  she  answered  in  a  harsh  voice 
that  what  she'd  told  the  lad  she'd  stick  to,  and 
there  was  an  end  on't.  "With  that,  clapping  the 
door  to  after  her,  she  went  within. 

My  mistress  made  no  comment.  She  told  the 
man  to  drive  us  a  little  way  into  the  field  beyond 
the  road,  and  there  Christy  came,  a  flush  on  either 
cheek,  his  head  bowed  as  if  prepared  to  hear  his 
joy  was  to  be  taken  from  him. 

"I  am  glad  to  leave  my  little  dog  with  you, 
Christy,"  the  lady  said,  in  a  cheerful  voice.  "I 
don't  think  he  could  have  a  better  place  to  get  over 
his  troubles  in.  You  must  remember  what  I  told 
you  about  his  food,  and  keep  him  warm  at  night. 
For  the  rest,  I'm  sure  even  Minimus  here  would 
think  it  a  treat  to  have  such  a  lovely  hospital." 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  if  }Tour  boy  could  only  come  down 
and  play  on  our  beach  he'd  see  how  nice  it  is,"  cried 
Christy,  enchanted. 

"Would  you  like  to  stop  here,  while  I  take  the 
rest  of  my  drive,  darling,"  asked  my  mistress.  "  I 
shall  be  waiting  on  the  main  road  for  you  about  an 
hour  from  now." 

This  being  agreed  upon  with  alacrity,  I  had  to 
undergo  the  trial  of  seeing  Paul  Pry  follow  these 
boys.  All  three  of  them  ran  down  a  path  along 
the  shore,  and  slid  from  sight  so  rapidly  you  would 
have  thought  they  had  tumbled  in  the  sea.  But  AVC 


40  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  " 

caught  glimpses  of  them,  and  heard  tongues  going 
like  mill-wheels. 

"]STo,  my  dear  Dame  Trot,"  said  my  mistress, 
stroking  me  as  if  she  divined  my  disappointment. 
"Let  us  take  our  drive  quietly,  and  leave  thoso 
lords  of  creation  to  their  own  devices.  Poor  little 
Christy  !" 

Poor  little  Christy!  Paul  told  me  afterwards, 
and  Minimus  told  us,  when  we  picked  him  up  again 
according  to  appointment,  that  Christy's  play  place 
Avas  the  most  beautiful  he  ever  saw. 

"  There's  a  secret  cave,  with  sea-anemones  and 
star-fish  by  the  hundred,  where  Christy's  going  to 
take  me  some  day  soon,"  said  Minimus.  "  Christy's 
got  a  dory  of  his  own,  and  we  wTent  out  a  little  way 
and  caught  more  pollock  than  we  knew  what  to  do 
with,  in  five  minutes.  And  their  beach  is  'be-youti- 
ful,  mamma.  It's  only  six  feet  long,  just  under  that 
huge  cliff,  and  the  pebbles  and  shells  on  it  are  as 
fine  as  if  they'd  all  been  picked  and  polished.  I've 
got  both  pockets  full  of  beauties,  but  don't  put  your 
hand  in,  please ;  there  are  some  fish-hooks,  and  sea- 
urchins,  and  a  whopping  dead  star-fish  I'm  saving  for 
Minor's  collection.  We  had  star-fish  races,  mamma. 
Mine  was  named  Genesta,  and  Christy's  Puritan.  I 
named  'em.  Genesta  beat.  The  course  was  between 
two  rocks,  and  we  touched  'em  up  with  switch 
es.  Christy's  going  to  keep  Genesta  for  me  in  a 
rock  pool.  When  Minor  comes  I  may  swap  her, 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  41 

but  not  for  his  silver  pencil  though.  You  know, 
mamma,  his  second  best,  the  one  Cousin  Lucy  gave 
him  Christmas.  He's  always  trying  to  work  that 
off  on  me.  I  wish  people  wouldn't  think  boys  like 
silver  pencils.  You  lose  the  lead  first  thing,  and 
you  never  get  another.  They're  most  as  bad  as 
sleeve-buttons  to  give  a  boy.  .  .  .  You  just  ought  to 
have  seen  the  squirrel  come  down  the  cliff  when 
Christy  called  him.  He  was  afraid  of  Paul  Pry  at 
first ;  but,  when  he  found  out  Paul  was  afraid  of 
him,  lie  strutted  along.  Paul  sneaked  up  to  me,  and 
tucked  his  head  under  my  arm.  He  likes  Christy, 
mamma.  I  believe  all  animals  like  Christy.  Be 
fore  I  came  away  Paul  had  snuggled  up  to  him 
just  as  he  does  to  Minor  and  me.  Oh !  I  have  had 
a  splendid  afternoon.  I  wish  Minor  would  hurry 
up  and  come  to  Mount  Desert." 

So  accustomed  was  my  mistress  to  follow  out  her 
own  train  of  thoughts  to  the  accompaniment  of 
this  wagging  little  tongue,  that  she  only  looked  at 
him  abstractedly. 

"  Poor  little  Christy  !"  she  murmured  again,  and 
put  one  arm  around  her  boy's  shoulders,  and  so 
drove  home  through  the  westering  sunlight. 


CHAPTER   IY. 

WE  were  to  move  into  our  own  house  in  a  few 
days,  and  I,  for  one,  was  heartily  glad.  I  could 
look  forward,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  to  the 
sweets  of  liberty.  In  hotels  Minimus  and  I  felt 
obliged  to  be  so  dreadfully  prim  and  well-behaved. 
Minimus  said  it  was  wearing  on  him  to  have  to 
think  about  his  finger-nails  so  much.  Then,  when 
his  mother  was  sitting  on  the  veranda,  talking  to 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  he  happened  to  come 
along,  there  were  certain  ceremonies  to  be  un 
dergone  that,  to  say  the  least,  the  victim  did  not 
fancy. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  dear  2"  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  would  say,  in  a  flattering  manner.  "  Min 
imus,  eh  ?  How  old  are  you,  Minimus  ?  Do  you 
like  Bar  Harbor  better  than  IS"ew  York  ?"  and  so 
on.  "  Then,  when  they  meet  a  fellow  again,"  the 
little  boy  remarked,  "they  pass  me  by  without 
speaking,  often  as  not.  I  hate  people  who  are  po 
lite  to  you  only  when  your  mother's  there." 

This  was  my  grievance,  exactly.     The  acquaint- 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  43 

anccs  of  my  mistress  would  praise  me  to  the  skies, 
and  pat  and  stroke  me  till  I  was  quite  upset  inter 
nally,  when  she  had  me  in  her  lap.  Then,  if  I  ven 
tured  into  an  open  doorway  or  hall  on  my  own  re 
sponsibility,  I  was  told  to  "  Get  out,"  and  "  Be  off 
with  you ;"  and  once,  if  you  will  believe  me,  I  was 
kicked — gently  but  firmly  kicked — out  of  his  room 
by  a  gentleman  who  had  previously  told  my  mis 
tress  that  I  was  a  bang-up  little  creature,  and  would 
take  first  prize  at  any  bench  show. 

These  experiences  gave  me  a  painful  insight  into 
the  insincerity  of  human  nature.  Other  peculiari 
ties  of  the  biped  race  calling  themselves  the  rulers 
of  animal  creation  struck  me  no  less  vividly.  Some 
times  I  even  felt  as  if  the  milk  of  human  kindness 
were  prematurely  curdled  in  my  breast.  This  may 
account  for  the  slight  vein  of  cynicism  apparent  in 
my  writings. 

I  used,  for  instance,  to  go  to  see  Flossy,  an  Eng 
lish  friend  of  mine  stopping  near  us  at  what  they 
called  a  family  hotel,  comparatively  quiet  and  un 
exciting.  "  Yery  select,"  I  heard  an  old  lady  with 
a  bit  of  black  lace  over  the  wide  parting  of  her  hair 
say  to  an  old  lady  in  a  sailor-hat.  I  think,  of  the 
two,  I  preferred  the  old  lady  with  the  bit  of  lace, 
though  the  one  with  a  sailor-hat  was  always  in 
high  spirits,  and  ready  for  anything  proposed  in 
the  way  of  entertainment.  They  had  also,  at  Flos- 
sy's  house,  a  mamma  with  four  daughters,  who, 


44  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

from  morn  to  eve,  from  week's  end  to  week's  end, 
went  out  somewhere  on  pleasure  bent.  Nobody 
ever  saw  those  young  women  without  their  hats  by 
day.  They  would  rush  in,  declaring  they  were  tired 
to  death,  although  that  had  certainly  been  the  jolli- 
est  morning  yet ;  pounce  upon  their  meals,  eat  while 
chattering  incessantly,  and  set  out  again  in  a  buck- 
board.  In  the  evening  they  went  to  hops  at  the 
other  hotels  in  turn.  If  at  these  hotels  there 
chanced  to  be  entertainments  to  which  they  were 
not  invited,  they  would  make  up  parties  to  go  on 
the  piazzas  and  look  in  at  those  who  were.  Once, 
Flossy  said,  a  lady  nobody  knew,  asked  a  young 
man  everybody  knew,  to  help  her  to  give  a  fashion 
able  party.  lie  said  it  might  be  managed  if  every 
fellow  he  asked  could  fetch  his  own  young  lady,  and 
all  the  hostess  had  to  do  was  to  provide  the  supper 
and  the  band.  Flossy's  indefatigable  girls  went  to 
that  entertainment,  of  course,  but  I  never  heard 
that  the  method  on  which  it  was  conducted  had  in 
creased  in  vogue.  They  said  at  breakfast  next  day 
they  thought  it  would  be  larks,  but  found  it  a  great 
bore.  The  old  lady  with  the  bit  of  lace  on  her  head 
observed  to  the  old  lady  with  the  sailor-hat  that 
in  her  day  things  were  differently  managed.  She 
dared  say  she  was  a  little  old-fashioned  in  her  no 
tions,  but  the  idea  struck  her  painfully.  To  which 
the  old  lady  in  the  sailor-hat  said,  "  After  all,  what 
are  the  odds  ?  One  needn't  know  the  hostess  if  one 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  45 

meets  her  in  town  next  season,  and  the  croquettes 
were  delicious"  She  had  been  present  as  a  chap- 
erone. 

When  we  first  went  to  Bar  Harbor  there  were 
more  ladies  than  gentlemen,  and  they  were  compar 
atively  unemployed.  But  as  the  season  waxed,  and 
every  boat  contributed  a  fresh  load  of  available  ma 
terial,  the  young  ladies  went  into  the  serious  busi 
ness  of  the  summer  with  a  will.  Sometimes  we 
set  out  to  make  calls ;  once,  in  a  huge  hotel,  where 
we  got  no  farther  than  the  piazza,  "  the  same  old 
fish-pond!"  somebody  said  to  my  mistress,  as  she 
laughingly  held  her  hands  up  to  her  ears  to  ward 
away  the  sound  of  hundreds  of  voices  engaged  in 
animated  converse.  I  looked  about  for  the  fish 
pond,  but  saw  no  water  of  any  kind.  What  I  saw 
was  enough  young  people  to  stock  a  western  terri 
tory.  They  were  in  a  large  bare  hall,  sitting  on 
the  stairs,  sitting  on  the  counter  that  served  to  bar 
ricade  the  hotel  office,  walking,  two-and-two,  up 
and  down  the  entries.  There  were  enough  of  them 
in  addition  to  completely  fill  an  immense  veranda, 
extending  half-way  around  the  hotel.  The  hum 
of  their  mingled  voices  made  a  vast  wave  of  sound, 
heard,  but  uncomprehended,  by  the  novice  shortly 
after  landing  at  the  Bar  Harbor  wharf. 

When  I  say  young  people,  I  mean,  of  course,  to 
be  taken  with  a  grain  of  allowance  for  innocent  re 
liance  on  fleeting  first  impressions.  Perhaps  if  I 


46  BAR   HARBOR  DAYS. 

say  that  some  of  them  acted  as  if  they  were  young, 
or  dressed  as  if  they  were  young,  I  may  be  more 
correct.  Certain  it  is  that  all  of  them  walked  with 
peculiar  lightness  of  gait.  All  of  them  talked  with 
a  vibrant  thrill  of  excitement  in  their  voices.  There 
was  one  gentleman  I  particularly  noticed.  Pie 
blocked  our  way,  and  I  could  not  help  noticing  him. 
lie  wore  a  striped  orange  and  black  "  blazer "  (so 
Paul  tells  me  these  highly-colored  coats  are  called), 
knickerbockers,  heather  mixture  stockings,  a  blue 
flannel  tennis-cap,  and  a  scarlet  satin  scarf.  When 
he  turned  around,  with  an  apology  for  impeding  my 
lady's  progress,  I  observed  he  had  gray  hairs  and 
wrinkles  enough  for  two  grandfathers.  My  mis 
tress  said  to  a  friend  there  was  some  mistake  about 
the  geographical  situation  of  Ponce  de  Leon's  foun 
tain.  The  historians  had  stationed  it  at  the  wrong 
end  of  the  American  continent.  I  did  not  under 
stand  her,  and,  in  fish-ponds  and  fountains,  felt  my 
self  getting  considerably  beyond  my  depth. 

Most  of  the  people  at  that  wonderful  hotel  were 
dressed  in  costumes  suggestive  of  tennis  or  boat 
ing,  of  mountaineering,  or  of  going  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships.  I  heard  of  a  young  man  who  went  the 
rounds  of  the  village  during  an  entire  season  attired 
in  correct  yachtsman's  dress.  He  was  an  innocent 
youth  and  ungrammatical ;  and  when  somebody 
who  met  him  later  on  inquired  why  he  was  not 
then  with  his  craft,  he  replied,  with  a  puzzled  look, 
"  /  ain't  got  a  yacht ;  who  said  I  had  ?" 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  47 

Paul  says  I  should  begin  a  new  paragraph,  and 
take  a  fresh  pen  to  do  honor  to  the  young  ladies  we 
saw  around  the  fish-pond.  lie  says  if  he  were  a  fish 
he  wouldn't "  play  "  at  all,  but  bite  with  his  eyes  shut, 
and  be  spared  the  trouble  of  making  his  mind  up 
which  to  choose.  I  tell  Paul  this  is  absurd,  and  that 
as  I  set  out  simply,  to  give  some  idea  of  the  ways  of 
life  cf  this  now  famous  place  of  resort,  I  will  do  so, 
without  wandering  from  the  point  into  exaggerated 
statements.  They  were  a  pretty  enough  set  of  girls, 
no  doubt,  but  dress  and  surroundings  had  a  deal  to 
do  with  their  general  effectiveness.  I  should  like 
to  know,  for  instance,  who  could  look  actually  plain 
in  a  white  tailor-made  frock,  with  a  red  Tarn  o'  Shan- 
ter  cap  upon  her  head,  and  a  big  bunch  of  golden- 
rod  at  her  breast,  seated  in  a  birch-bark  canoe,  being 
paddled  about  Frenchman's  Bay  by  a  good-looking 
young  fellow  in  flannels  ? 

Paul  says  the  sentiment  and  construction  of  that 
sentence  are  essentially  feminine.  I  hope  they  are,  I 
tell  him,  since  if  I  am  clever,  and  an  author,  I  trust 
I  may  never  lose  the  spirit  of  my  own  sex  in  an  at 
tempt  to  compete,  on  literary  ground,  with  his. 

To  go  back  to  those  girls.  They  rowed,  they  ca 
noed,  they  climbed,  they  buckboarded,  they  bowled, 
they  sailed,  they  danced,  they  rode  on  horseback, 
they  picnicked — with  tireless  energy.  Those  among 
them  established  by  the  vox  populi  as  queens  pre 
eminent  found  it  difficult  to  accommodate  their  en- 


48          •  BAR   HARBOR   DAYS. 

gagements  to  the  arbitrary  divisions  of  time  in  gen 
eral  acceptation  as  hours  of  wakef  illness. 

Days  were  naturally  too  short  when  three  to  five 
hours,  morning  and  afternoon,  were  allotted  to  sit 
ting  on  a  rock  and  listening  to  analyses  of  the  ten 
der  passion,  as  original  in  treatment  as  they  were 
exclusive  in  application.  Thus  it  was  that  it  became 
necessary  for  young  ladies  much  in  demand  to  di 
vide  and  subdivide  their  time  for  distribution  among 
their  admirers ;  to  stroll  with  Mr.  Jones  on  the 
plank-walk  at  ten,  to  canoe  with  Mr.  Smith  at  ten- 
thirty,  to  eat  caramels  with  Mr.  Robinson  at  eleven- 
fifteen,  and  so  on. 

It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  the  young  men  to 
remonstrate  against  their  part  of  the  work,  any 
more  than  it  did  to  the  backboard  drivers,  ranged 
in  a  long  row  in  the  street  below  the  fish-pond,  to 
demur  when  they  were  signalled.  Everybody  knows 
that  philandering  is  as  inevitable  at  Mount  Desert 
as  are  mackerel  and  picnics. 

The  day  we  went  to  the  fish-pond — it  was  the 
only  time  I  was  there,  and  I  remember  it,  partly  be 
cause  Paul  scolded  me  for  letting  a  bold  French 
gentleman  stare  at  me.  He  was  a  poodle,  so  black 
you  couldn't  see  an  expression  of  any  kind  upon  his 
face,  and  had  been  shorn  like  a  lion,  with  sweet  little 
tassels  on  his  legs  and  tail.  His  name  was  M.  Rex 
Caniche,  and  I  don't  deny  his  staring,  but  can  a 
woman  always  make  herself  forbidding  to  the  other 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  49 

sex  ?  That  day  I  made  acquaintance  with  a  Blue 
Skye,  from  whom  I  obtained  some  interesting  facts. 

Her  name  was  Lily.  The  lady  who  belonged  to 
her  was  considered  a  great  beauty.  Tall  and  showy, 
with  rosy  cheeks  and  a  long  waist,  and  a  little  red 
veil  worn  over  the  tip  of  her  nose,  she  was  exactly 
like  a  fashion-plate. 

This  lady  made  no  end  of  fuss  over  Lily,  kissing 
her  and  calling  her  pet  names.  Lily  had  a  new  bow 
every  morning  to  match  her  lady's  gowns.  The 
day  I  saw  her  it  was  cardinal,  and  so  big  Lily  could 
hardly  walk  under  it.  "Well,  Lily  waddled  over  in 
my  direction,  and  told  me  that  woman  of  hers  was 
the  most  awful  fraud  the  place  contained.  "  She's 
married,  and  leaves  her  husband  and  three  of  her 
children  at  home  in  town.  The  other  two  are  here, 
tucked  away  in  a  cottage  with  the  nurse,  while  she 
spends  the  day  on  the  hotel  piazza,  or  on  the  plank- 
walk.  They  call  her  the  Chief  of  the  Broadway 
Squad,  she's  so  steadily  on  the  go  crossing  the 
street  with  different  men  in  tow.  She's  got  a  lanky 
boy  at  home,  nearly  as  old  as  that  little  dude  she's 
holding  on  to  now.  Isn't  she  afraid  she'll  lose  him, 
though  ?  lie  don't  like  dogs.  That's  the  reason 
I'm  allowed  to  get  off  with  you.  I  positively  hate 
her  kisses,"  went  on  poor  Lily,  in  whose  round  bright 
eyes  under  her  tangled  forelock  I  could  discern  the 
gathering  tears.  "  She  told  a  dinner-table  full  of  peo 
ple  once  she  couldn't  £et  there  sooner  because  I  was 
4 


50  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  . 

threatened  with  convulsions  from  eating  wedding- 
cake.  The  truth  was  her  gown  didn't  come  home, 
and  she  was  going  on  like  a  f  ury  before  her  dressing- 
glass.  The  worst  thing  is  those  miserable  children ; 
they  are  as  much  neglected  as  infant  Hottentots. 
No,  he  positively  wo?i't  ask  her  to  go  in  his  canoe. 
I'm  glad  of  it.  She'll  have  to  put  up  with  Smithers 
in  a  row-boat.  She  never  takes  Smithers  unless  the 
rest  have  failed.  There  she  goes !  '  Lily  darling !' 
'  Lily  sweetest !'  The  same  old  tune.  Ugh !  What 
hypocrisy.  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Trot.  Unless  a  better 
man  turns  up  between  here  and  the  wharf  we're 
booked  to.  go  with  Smithers  in  the  boat." 

And  poor  Lily,  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  dejec 
tion,  allowed  herself  to  be  swooped  down  upon  and 
tucked  away — a  mere  bundle  of  fluff — under  her 
lady's  arm.  I  never  met  a  sadder  case  of  confiding 
nature  warped  by  contact  with  the  customs  of  the 
fashionable  world. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AND  now  we  had  left  the  village,  and  were  estab 
lished"  in  a  house  so  near  the  water  it  was  like  living 
in  a  yacht.  But  there  were  drawbacks  even  to  this 
pleasure.  It  was  a  new  house,  and  Minimus  and  I 
thought  the  women  in  charge  of  putting  things  to 
rights,  as  they  expressed  it,  were  dreadfully  severe. 
They  were  forever  spying  at  our  feet  when  we  came 
in,  and  rushing  at  us  when  we  wanted  to  sit  down  on 
the  new  chairs  and  sofas.  Minimus  privately  con- 
lided  to  me  that  he  liked  the  place  much  better 
when  it  was  full  of  carpenters  and  shavings.  How 
ever,  it  was  beautiful  June  weather,  and  we  lived  a 
great  deal  out  of  doors.  The  fields  were  full  of 
daisies  and  blue  iris  and  uncurling  ferns,  and  you 
could  hardly  tell  the  buttercups  from  the  yellow 
butterflies  that  rested  on  them.  Besides,  they  had 
promised  me  Paul  Pry  for  a  companion  at  a-  very 
early  date;  and  Minimus  had  hope  that  Minor's 
school  term  would  soon  be  at  an  end.  Beyond  that, 
neither  of  us  had  anything  in  particular  to  ask  of 
Fate. 


52  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

One  afternoon,  when  there  was  a  shower,  they 
were  unpacking  china,  and  some  men  were  carry 
ing  in  large  pieces  of  furniture  which  refused  to  go 
up  any  of  our  stairs  —  and  everybody  said  "  Get 
out,"  and  things  like  that,  to  Minimus  and  me — so 
we  retired,  feeling  a  little  disconsolate,  to  find 
amusement  in  the  Den. 

This  was  the  one  place  from  which  even  the 
women  did  not  drive  us.  It  was  a  room  shingled 
inside,  the  walls  covered  with  oars  and  paddles, 
bows  and  arrows,  racquets,  creels,  and  fishing-rods. 
It  had  no  furniture  but  a  table  and  some  chairs,  and 
there  was  a  fireplace  and  andirons,  and  a  door  open 
ing  on  a  path  directly  to  the  water.  As  you  may 
suppose,  this  spot  was  especially  designed  for  the 
use  of  boys  and  dogs,  and  I  have  seen  it  so  full  of 
'em  there  wasn't  room  for  another  earthly  thing 
but  a  plate  of  cookies  and  a  jug  of  lemonade. 

Here  we  sat,  and  Minimus  whittled  out  the  hull 
of  a  boat ;  while  I,  as  usual  in  moments  otherwise 
unoccupied,  took  a  nap.  By  and  by  the  rain  stopped, 
and  the  grass  and  daisies  shone  in  the  returning 
sun.  It  was  impossible  to  stay  in-doors,  with  nature 
wooing  us  like  that ;  so  down  went  the  jackknife 
and  the  boat-hull,  up  jumped  my  little  master,  up 
jumped  I,  in  a  twinkling. 

Minimus  ran  first  to  ask  his  mother  if  he  might 
go  to  Christy's.  He  found  that  lady  surrounded  by 
and  interviewing  the  following  persons,  only : 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  53 

A  carpenter,  about  extra  shelves ; 

A  painter,  about  the  right  tint  for  a  cornice ; 

A  man  with  a  carpet-bag,  who  had  come  to  hang 
some  shades  and  couldn't  wait ; 

A  woman  from  Otter  Cliffs,  with  nice  fresh  eggs 
to  sell ; 

A  farmer  from  Hull's  Cove,  with  potatoes ; 

Two  rival  grocerymen,  solicitous  of  custom ; 

The  chicken-woman ; 

The  pig-man,  about  the  kitchen  refuse ;  and 

A  maid,  inquiring  if  she  remembered  where  she 
had  put  the  tack-hammer. 

"  Oh !  Minimus,  isn't  it  too  far  for  you  to  walk, 
my  boy  ?" 

"  Not  a  bit,  mamma.  Besides,  I  can  get  a  lift,  or 
hitches,  any  time." 

Neither  of  us  waited  to  pursue  the  subject  fur 
ther.  Off  we  ran  into  a  crystal  atmosphere.  Yery 
soon  a  good-natured  countryman,  driving  a  load  of 
loam,  took  us  up  beside  him  on  the  plank  serving  as 
seat ;  Minimus  in  his  sailor-suit  of  clean  blue  and 
white  striped  drilling,  and  I  in  my  snowiest  coat— 
for  I  had  been,  to  my  disgust,  bathed  only  that 
morning. 

When  we  jumped  down  and,  thanking  the  man, 
ran  across  lots  to  Christy's  cottage,  we  saw  him 
weeding  a  garden  bed.  Paul  Pry,  engaged  in  a 
jumping-match  with  a  grasshopper,  was  behind  him. 
Silly  Billy,  as  usual,  was  on  his  shoulder. 


54  BAH  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  Hello !"  said  Minimus. 

"Hello!"  said  Christy. 

"How's  Genesta"  asked  Minimus. 

"  She's  all  right,  but  Puritan  died  the  next  day 
after  you  were  here.  Look  at  Silly  Billy,  what 
friends  he  is  with  Paul !  Why  do  you  hold  your 
hand  over  Dame  Trot's  nose  ?" 

"  To  keep  her  from  catching  it,  you  know,"  said 
Minimus,  jerking  his  chin  towards  Paul  Pry,  wrho 
made  lively  demonstrations  of  a  desire  to  get  at 
me.  "  We  always  used  to  when  we  passed  a  house 
in  our  block  where  they  had  scarlet  fever." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  need  trouble  any  more,"  said 
Christy,  his  face  clouding  a  little.  "Paul  don't 
cough,  and  he  don't  sneeze;  and  he's  lively  as  a 
kitten  all  day  long,  and  eats  more  milk!  Tom 
Spriggins  says  he's  as  well  as  he's  ever  going  to  be, 
and  I  meant  to  come  up  your  way  and  fetch  him 
back,  to-morrow." 

Christy  gave  a  sort  of  gulp ;  Minimus  loosed  his 
hold  of  me.  Paul's  little  white  body  flashed  across 
the  garden  path ;  I  after  him. 

The  first  use  we  made  of  our  permission  to  be 
together  was  to  have  a  circus.  Such  a  thing  as 
catching  one  of  us,  or  stopping  our  mad  career,  the 
two  boys  never  dreamed  of.  Whiz !  bang !  we  went, 
up  into  the  woods,  over  the  garden  beds,  into  the 
cow-pasture,  down  to  the  perilous  verge  of  the  cliff ; 
back  again,  down  the  beach-path  to  the  lower  rocks, 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  55 

till,  at  last,  gripping  and  growling,  holding  on  to 
each  other  by  the  teeth,  we  lost  our  footing  and 
plunged  heels  over  head  into  the  sea. 

O-o-h  !  How  cold  it  was !  Ice-splinters  seemed 
to  sting  our  skin.  Could  we  swim  ?  That  was  the 
question. 

There  was  no  time  to  speculate  upon  this  point. 
Swim  we  did,  straight  in  to  the  shore,  where  the 
two  boys  stood  cheering  us  with  shouts  of  triumph. 
I  believe  we  would  have  been  frozen  then,  but  that 
it  occurred  to  us  to  have  another  circus.  When 
that  was  over,  the  blood  was  tingling  in  our  veins 
and  we  felt  ready  to  meet  a  bull-dog. 

Ah,  me!  The  tender  retrospect.  Since  then, 
Paul  and  I  have  never  parted.  If  Paul  cocks  up 
his  ears,  I  bark ;  if  he  whines,  I  run  about,  sniffing 
out  the  difficulty.  We  share  each  other's  joys,  sor 
rows,  bones,  and  dog-biscuit.  If  at  times  I  have  to 
complain  of  a  little  l>rusquerie  in  my  beloved  con 
sort,  a  slight  tendency  to  snub  or  satirize,  I  bid  my 
self  recall  his  sterling  virtues,  his  tried  and  proved 
qualities  of  head  and  heart. 

From  that  day  his  health  was  established.  He 
grew  strong  and  stocky.  The  only  mark  he  bears 
of  the  malady  that  preyed  upon  his  youth  is  an  in 
ability  to  utter  a  good,  round,  fair-and-square  fox- 
terrier  bark.  He  is  so  sensitive  on  this  point  that  I 
induced  him  to  take  lessons,  privately,  of  me,  in  an 
accomplishment  I,  without  vanity,  may  lay  claim  to 


56  EAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

possessing  liberally.  Oh,  yes,  I  can  bark.  I  can 
rend  the  skies  with  shrill,  continued  yapping,  if  I 
try !  But,  spite  of  all  ray  efforts,  Paul  can  only 
give  vent  to  howls ;  long,  dreary,  eerie,  blood-curd 
ling  howls,  uttered  with  his  nose  up,  head  thrown 
back,  and  an  expression  of  woe  unspeakable  upon 
his  visage. 

Poor,  dear  fellow !  I  suppose  none  of  us  are 
without  our  weaknesses,  but  there  is  another  trifle  I 
should  like  to  set  down  here.  Paul  is,  in  his  own 
estimation,  as  brave  as  Julius  Caesar.  With  a  chick 
en,  or  a  grasshopper,  or  a  mouse,  he  is  really  terri 
ble.  But  confront  him  with  the  bellows,  and  he  is 
at  once  reduced  to  a  state  of  abject  terror.  Reason 
as  you  may,  you  can't  convince  him  that  this  useful 
little  instrument,  all  yellow  leather  and  brass  tacks, 
is  not  fraught  with  deadly  peril  to  him.  When  our 
boys,  as  I  regret  to  say  they  too  often  do,  chase  him 
into  a  corner  and  puff  cool  blasts  of  wind  upon  his 
nose  with  it,  Paul  actually  shrivels  up  with  fear ! 

I  would  that  my  liege  lord  had  not  these  defects, 
but  which  of  us  is  perfect  ? 

"  I  say,  you'll  miss  the  little  beggar,"  Minimus 
observed,  as  he  and  Christy  stood  "  shying  "  stones 
into  the  water. 

"  Yes,  he's  powerful  company  to  me,"  Christy 
answered,  with  a  sigh.  "  But  I've  got  Silly  Billy, 
and  I  never  counted  on  keeping  your  little  dog 
longer'n  this." 


PAT  I,    PHY    AND    MINIMI'S. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  57 

"  I've  got  a  green  snake  in  an  Apollinaris  bottle 
you  may  have,"  said  Minimus,  in  a  burst  of  gener 
osity  ;  "  he  snaps  like  anything,  and  I  was  keeping 
him  for  Minor.  Minor's  my  brother,  you  know ; 
not  my  biggest  brother.  lie's  five  feet  ten,  and  the 
captain  of  a  foot-ball  team.  They're  the  champions, 
and  they've  licked  most  all  the  schools  in  town. 
Gollylesia !  I  just  wish  you  could  see  Long,  their 
half-back,  kick." 

"  I'd  rather  see  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,"  answered 
the  island-boy.  "  Grandmammy's  got  it  pasted  on 
the  wall,  and  I've  read  about  it  many  a  time ;  that 
and  the  obelisk." 

"  Well,  the  bridge  is  some  fun,  when  you  go  over 
it  in  those  cable  cars  and  walk  back.  The  day  papa 
took  us  we  went  first  to  Fulton  Market  to  see  the 
fish,  and  a  man  there  filled  our  pockets  full  of 
shrimps,  and  we  ate  'em  all  the  way.  You  crack 
'em,  just  like  peanuts." 

"  Did  you  ever  pick  up  winkles  ?"  asked  Christy, 
feeling  more  at  home.  "  There  are  lots  here,  and 
clams,  too.  Let's,  will  you  ?" 

Conversation  from  this  point  was  of  a  very  dis 
jointed  character.  The  two  lads  capered  about 
barefoot  on  the  sharp  stones  of  the  beach,  as  if  they 
were  dancing  on  red-hot  ploughshares,  and,  to  rest 
their  feet,  sank  their  toes  in  oozing  mud,  where  the 
tide  had  left  it  moist  and  sparkling  in  the  sun. 

Christy's  powers  as  a  contributor  to  general  in- 


58  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

formation  on  subjects  appertaining  to  sea  and  shore 
impressed  Minimus  profoundly.  There  was  some 
thing  fascinating  to  the  little  town  boy  in  these 
stories  reeking  of  salt,  having  in  them  an  echo  of 
"  the  everlasting  thunder  of  the  long  Atlantic  swell." 
Stories  of  whales  and  porpoises,  of  cod  and  hake  and 
haddock,  strong  and  fierce,  of  ravening  shark  and 
clog-fish,  of  sword-fish,  harpooned  from  the  deck  of  a 
slanting  schooner ;  of  mackerel-fishing,  with  its  ups 
and  downs  of  luck.  And  they  had  in  them  the 
charm  of  recital  by  an  actual  participant  in  the 
scenes  described.  For  this  slender  Christy,  with-his 
pathetic  blue  eyes  and  rose-tinted  cheeks,  had  been 
from  babyhood  accustomed  to  rough  it  with  the 
fishermen,  who  took  him  out  whenever  they  had  a 
chance.  It  did  not  occur  to  his  grandmother  to  try 
to  keep  him  from  the  sea.  Every  man  child  among 
those  born  to  her  had  gone  the  same  way.  Was 
not  she  well  accustomed  to  trim  her  lamp  at  sunset, 
and  set  it  within  the  little  casement,  to  cover  in  the 
fire  and  go  to  bed,  leaving  food  and  drink  on  the 
table  for  those  who  might,  but  oftenest  did  not,  re 
turn  ?  If  Christy  came  in  wet,  he  dried  himself  by 
the  blaze  of  birch  logs,  or  else  shook  the  rain  from 
his  worn  jacket,  and  laughed  as  he  sat  down  to  his 
beans  and  bacon.  Ofttimes  his  dinner  was  a  bit  of 
blueberry  pie  and  a  morsel  of  cheese,  eaten  upon 
the  rocks  or  in  the  dory,  while  on  the  rounds  look 
ing  after  his  lobster-pots,  or  fishing  for  flounders 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  59 

and  pollock.  Such  a  tiling  as  overshoes  was  un 
heard  of  in  the  cabin,  a  point  on  which  Minimus 
congratulated  him  warmly. 

"  I  say,  Christy,  I  wish  I  was  in  your  place  for  a ' 
while,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Minor  and  I  would  like  to 
make  a  bonfire  of  our  pea-jackets  and  ulsters,  and 
throw  in  every  pair  of  rubber  shoes  and  every  um 
brella  in  the  country.  I  'spose  now,"  after  a  mo 
ment's  meditation,  "  if  you  have  a  little  tickle  in 
your  throat  you're  not  bound  in  honor  to  tell  your 
grandmammy  ?" 

Christy  was  ready  to  admit  that. 

"  Then  you  don't  have  to  gargle,"  Minimus  went 
on,  in  a  melancholy  tone  (gargling  was  the  sum  and 
crown  of  objectionable  operations  at  our  house), 
"  and  if  you  want  to  go  out  roller-skating  on  the 
sidewalk  on  a  frosty  day  you  don't  have  to  argue 
yourself  black  in  the  face  to  persuade  your  grand- 
mammy  to  let  you  go  without  your  great-coat." 

No,  Christy  had  none  of  these  drawbacks  to  con 
tend  with.  In  summer  he  was  up  at  sunrise,  milk 
ing  the  cow,  feeding  the  chickens,  looking  for  eggs, 
attending  to  their  little  garden.  Often  as  not,  when 
grandmammy  had  a  good  big  wash  from  the  hotels, 
he  had  no  regular  meals,  and  his  days  alternated 
between  hanging  out  the  linen  on  the  lines,  taking 
it  in,  and  going  out  in  the  dory,  picking  berries,  or 
digging  clams  for  supper.  That  was  their  busy  time, 
when  the  island  was  full  of  rusticators.  In  autumn 


(30  EAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

the  "  city  folks"  dropped  away  with  the  bright  leaves 
from  the  boughs,  and  by  December  the  whole  face 
of  nature  had  changed  to  frowns  and  darkling 
glances.  The  soft  Italian  sky  was  draped  in  nun's 
gray.  The  sapphire  bay  was  blurred  with  frequent 
gales  and  blocked  with  floating  ice.  The  granite 
ledges  of  the  Porcupines  were  lashed  with  curling 
surf,  leaping  at  times  so  high  as  to  deposit  the 
shells  of  sea-urchins  upon  the  skeleton  roots  of  fir- 
trees  on  the  cliffs. 

Then  the  ocean  swell  came  in,  furiously  dashing 
its  arctic  waves  upon  the  buttress  of  Egg  Eock 
Light — or  sucked  into  the  thunder-caves  at  Schoon 
er  Head,  to  arise  again,  spouting  defiance  in  spray- 
like  mist  a  hundred  feet  above.  But  no  matter 
what  turmoil  went  on  at  their  feet,  those  beautiful, 
brooding,  motherly  mountains  sat  serene.  Christy 
had  their  rock-ledges  to  gaze  at,  ice-bound  and  shin 
ing  in  the  eastern  sun.  Their  fir- woods,  a  veritable 
land  of  Christmas  trees,  went  into  hoods  of  snow, 
but  otherwise  made  no  alteration  in  their  mode  of 
life  during  the  winter  season.  Theirs  was  the  ele 
ment  of  rest  decreed  by  Nature's  God  unto  this  lit 
tle  jagged  bit  of  land,  left  at  the  mercy  of  the  wild 
north  sea. 

Told,  even  after  Christy's  boy-fashion,  these  things 
had  power  to  excite  in  Minimus  a  feeling  of  insur 
rection  against  home,  school,  and  conventionalities 
of  metropolitan  life.  He  was  prepared  to  resign  all 


A    TIirNDKU    (  AVK. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  £1 

of  them  in  favor  of  a  winter  spent  with  his  new 
found  friend  in  the  cabin  on  the  cliff.  While  talk 
ing,  they  occupied  themselves  with  picking  winkles 
off  the  rocks,  where  the  fat  and  clammy  creatures 
clung  persistently,  and  in  lifting  stones  to  detect 
the  presence  underneath  of  clams,  who  showed 
themselves  very  clever  in  burrowing  in  the  mud, 
and  were  betrayed  only  by  jets  of  water  rising  to 
the  surface. 

"  I'll  run  up  to  the  house  with  this  here  mess  for 
grandmammy,"  said  Christy,  after  a  fair  division  of 
their  spoils.  "  We'll  leave  yours  in  this  rock-pool 
till  you're  a  mind  to  go.  Say,  don't  you  want  to 
see  su'thing  real  pretty  ?  They're  in  that  cave  round 
yonder  near  the  point  o'  rocks  I  told  you  'bout.  It's 
sea-anemones,  an'  if  city  folks  knew  'bout  'em  they'd 
be  carrying  'em  off  in  pails  to  the  hotels." 

"  Ho\v  do  we  get  there  ?"  asked  Minimus. 

"Oh,  shin  around  the  rocks.  It's  easy  enough, 
'cept  when  you  git  to  a  oig  boulder,  and  then  you 
have  to  grip  it,  and  trust  to  luck." 

This  prospect  was  too  inviting  to  be  resisted, 
and  they  set  out  to  skirt  the  fringe  of  rough  and 
jagged  rock  around  the  coast  between  them,  and 
the  point  desired.  Now  and  again  they  stopped  to 
quench  their  thirst  at  the  fairy  rivulets  of  clear  cold 
water  coursing  from  hidden  springs  in  the  fir-tipped 
heights  above,  to  mingle  with  the  sea.  When  tired, 
they  lay  full  length  upon  ledges  matted  with  rock 


(52  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

fern,  and  screened  from  sight  by  thickets  of  wild 
rose,  pink  with  blossoms.  Once  Minimus  charged 
Christy  with  tickling  him  in  the  ear,  at  a  point 
where  a  misstep  might  have  plunged  him  into  the 
kelp-lined  caverns  far  below.  Christy  denied,  Min 
imus  persisted,  and  there  might  have  been  a  quar 
rel,  but  that  my  master  espied,  close  to  the  spot 
whereon  his  head  was  pillowed,  a  single  harebell 
courtesying  on  an  elastic  stem  of  wirelike  brown. 

"  Oh,  you  little  mischief !"  cried  Minimus  to  the 
harebell.  He  had  stretched  out  his  hand  to  pick 
it,  but  a  second  thought  made  him  draw  back. 

"  I  wouldn't  like  any  one  to  take  me  away  from 
such  a  pretty  place,"  he  said. 
.    And  the  hare-bell  nodded  assent ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PRETTY  soon  we  came  to  a  huge  rock,  rising 
straight  and  smooth  in  a  column  from  the  sea, 
topped  with  a  tangled  mass  of  fern  and  wild-roses, 
like  a  periwig.  As  to  getting  over  it,  only  flies 
could  have  walked  up  the  side  of  such  a  barrier. 

"  We're  stuck,"  said  Minimus. 

"  Not  yet,"  shouted  Christy,  who  was  ahead  of 
him,  investigating  the  situation.  "  I've  been  many 
a  time  around  this  old  fellow.  There's  a  ledge  here 
under  water,  broad  enough  to  hold  you  easily,  if 
you  only  mind  your  steps." 

"  All  Tight,"  "said  Minimus.  "  I'll  follow.  But 
there's  one  thing  certain.  These  puppies  must  stay 
here  till  we  come  back ;  they  can't  wade,  and  we 
can't  carry  them." 

Paul  and  I  behaved  as  many  spoiled  children 
have  behaved  before  us.  "We  whined  and  whim 
pered,  and  protested  against  being  left.  Finally,  in 
spite  of  a  stern  order  from  our  master,  Paul  dashed 
breast  high  into  the  water  and  tried  to  make  his 
way  around  by  swimming,  with  the  immediate 


64  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

result  of  being  nearly  carried  off  on  a  receding 
wave. 

"  You  little  goose,"  cried  Minimus,  as,  with  great 
difficulty,  he  fished  my  liege  out  by  a  hind -leg. 
"  You  haven't  an  ounce  of  brains,  I  do  believe. 
Christy,  I'll  tell  you  what.  Let's  each  button  one 
of  the  dogs  inside  his  jacket.  Lucky  I've  got  a 
sailor-shirt  on.'' 

This  plan  suited  us  exactly.  Paul,  after  being 
dried  by  one  of  those  useful  handkerchiefs  gener 
ally  found  in  a  wad  at  the  bottom  of  a  boy's  trou 
sers  pocket,  was  secured  in  Christy's  breast,  his  head 
looking  out  most  comically.  Shoes  and  stockings 
were  next  strung  around  Christy's  neck,  and  Mini 
mus,  after  a  good  laugh  at  his  appearance,  made 
haste  to  follow  suit  with  me. 

Why  we  were  not  as  flat  as  flounders  after  the 
climb  which  followed  I  have  never  known.  Luck 
ily,  we  and  the  two  boys  got  off  with  a  few  scratch 
es  and  bruises,  but  nobody  thought  of  making  a 
complaint. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  rock  column  we  found 
Christy's  cavern,  and  crept  inside  to  rest.  I  had 
heard  a  good  deal  about  gnomes  and  elves  and  fai 
ries  since  I  came  to  my  present  residence,  and  had 
privately  thought  it  very  foolish  and  unreal  talk, 
till  I  saw  that  cave  of  Christy's.  You  must  remem 
ber  that  everything  outside  was  warm  and  bright 
and  sparkling  as  the  afternoon  sun  could  make  it. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  C5 

When  we  stood  under  the  great  prismatic  arch, 
framing  a  beautiful  living  picture  of  sea  and  isl 
ands,  and  looked  into  the  cool,  greenish  light  of 
the  mysterious  recess  beyond,  I  could  have  sworn 
those  shadowy  depths  were  peopled  by  a  hundred 
fairy  folk.  What  a  place  for  pixie-housekeeping ! 
Minimus  said  this  first,  and  I  made  the  same  re 
mark  to  Paul,  in  dog  English,  passing  it  off  as  orig 
inal.  Paul  asked  me  what  pixies  are,  and  when  I 
told  him  water-fairies,  he  looked  satirical.  Paul 
never  had  the  least  imagination ! 

The  whole  inside  of  the  cavern  was  soft  red  in 
color,  streaked  and  fretted  with  the  most  beautiful 
iridescence,  and  worn  by  the  waves  into  patterns 
like  lace-work.  At  half -tide,  as  it  was  then,  the  sea 
came  only  to  the  outer  limit  of  the  arch,  and  with 
in  was  a  bit  of  smooth  floor  of  polished  pebbles, 
scattered  with  shells  and  star-fish — while  in  every 
crevice  of  the  rocks  were  the  loveliest  starry  flowers 
of  blue  and  crimson,  their  fringed  petals  swaying 
to  and  fro.  Living  flowers !  Breathing  flowers !  A 
palpitating  garland ! 

"  Pretty,  be'ent  they  ?"  said  Christy,  with  propri 
etary  condescension.  "But  I'd  as  lief  not  handle 
'em.  Folks  says  they've  got  poison-bags.  Ever  see 
a  'nemone  fishing  for  its  food  ?  They're  powerful 
greedy  critters." 

This,  although  not  romantic,  was  interesting  to 
all  of  us.  The  two  boys  squatted  down  with  their 


QQ  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

noses  close  upon  the  wonders  of  the  anemones'  re 
treat,  and  Paul  and  I  looked  and  listened,  till  a 
great  swash  of  water  on  our  heels  gave  warning 
it  was  full  time  to  go. 

Outside  the  cave  the  situation  was  unpromising. 
A  wind,  rising  towards  sunset,  had  roughened  the 
water  into  waves,  and  the  submerged  path  around 
the  big  rock  was  now  in  a  state  of  lively  commo 
tion,  forbidding  all  thought  of  return  as  we  had 
come. 

Overhead,  the  coast  rose  into  an  impracticable 
cliff,  and  the  only  way  open  to  us  ended  in  a  knife- 
blade  reef,  completing  the  semicircle  that  began 
with  Christy's  home. 

"When  there  ain't  no  two  ways,  we've  got  to 
take  the  one,"  said  Christy,  calmly,  after  a  pause, 
during  which  both  boys'  hearts  beat  hard.  "  I  was 
a  blamed  fool  to  get  you  into  this  scrape,  but  I've 
been  in  worse  ones  along  this  coast  afore.  Lucky 
it's  daylight  and  the  sea  is  middlin'  calm." 

"  "What  are  you  going  to  do,  Christy  ?"  asked  Min 
imus.  "Oh!  do  you  think  this  is  an  adventure? 
I've  never  had  one,  and  Minor's  had  so  many.  He 
got  bit  by  a  dog,  and  set  the  house  afire,  and  blew 
off  his  eyebrows  with  a  powder-cracker." 

But  Christy  did  not  answer.  He  was  climbing 
along  the  rocks  this  side  the  reef,  surveying  the 
foothold  they  afforded. 

"  I  want  a  signal-flag,"  he  said,  returning.  "  Lucky 


AT    S(  IinoNKH    HEAD. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  67 

you've  got  a  white  shirt  on.  Off  with  it.  Here's 
a  pretty  good  pole  I've  found." 

Minimus  obeyed,  tugging  at  his  garment  till 
stopped  by  the  beaten-silver  buttons  inserted  in  the 
cuffs  by  loving  hands  at  home  that  morning.  The 
sight  of  them  brought  a  lump  into  his  throat,  tears 
into  his  eyes.  But  he  said  nothing,  and  quietly 
helped  Christy  to  rig  up  a  flag.  This  done,  Christy 
resumed  command. 

"  You  stay  here,  just  here,"  he  said.  "  Don't  get 
frightened  when  you  see  me  out  on  the  reef.  I'm 
pretty  sure-footed,  I  tell  you,  and  I've  got  to  make 
grandmammy  see  us,  or  break  a  trace." 

Welcome  slang!  Minimus  felt  cheered  exceed 
ingly.  He  even  smiled. 

"  Here  goes !"  shouted  Christy,  and  off  he  clam 
bered  along  the  black  line  of  the  rocks,  wet  to  the 
skin  by  flying  surf,  and  holding  his  banner  bravely. 

"  Hooray !"  shouted  Minimus,  with  all  his  lungs. 
I  barked.  Somehow  Paul  was  not  in  the  spirit  of 
the  thing.  His  tail  lay  flat,  his  ears  drooped.  What 
could  have  ailed  my  hero?" 

"  Hooray !"  returned  Christy.  He  had  reached 
the  farthest  practicable  rock,  and  stood  there  wav 
ing  with  immense  enthusiasm.  What  a  tiny  object 
he  seemed  amid  the  tumult  of  the  surf ! 

"  I  see  something  red  in  the  window,"  called 
Minimus. 

"  It's  the 'curtain.   She  saw  us,"  answered  Christy. 


68  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  Can  she  get  a  man — in  time  ? "  asked  Minimus, 
voicing  the  fear  that  rose  within. 

"  A  man  ?"  said  Christy,  scornfully.  "  Grand- 
mammy's  better'n  a  man.  She'll  come  herself. 
Look,  and  you'll  see  her  go  down  to  the  dory." 

Minimus  looked,  and  saw  emerge  from  the  cabin 
door  a  tall,  gaunt  figure,  walking  straight  and  swift 
down  the  little  path.  The  rocks  hid  her  for  a  time, 
but  very  soon  we  beheld  the  lumbering  old  dory 
turn  the  point,  with  grandmammy  inside.  Slow 
work  it  was  for  her  to  row  to  us ;  slower  it  seemed. 
Christy  had  climbed  back  to  our  perch  by  now,  and 
we  huddled  there  together,  a  wet,  forlorn,  but  not 
disheartened  little  group,  the  waves  breaking  upon 
the  ankles  of  the  lads. 

"Brace  your  back  against  the  rock,"  directed 
Captain  Christy.  "You  take  one  dog  and  I  the 
other,  or  the  first  thing  they'll  be  washed  away." 

I  fell  to  the  lot  of  Minimus.  I  nestled  in  his 
arms,  and  when  he  kissed  me  between  thje  eyes,  I 
licked  his  cheek,  and  tasted  something  salt  and 
warm.  I  knew  what  it  was,  because  everything 
else  was  salt  and  cold. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  mamma,  Trotsey,"  he  whis 
pered  in  my  ear,  little  knowing  how  well  I  under 
stood. 

The  last  ten  minutes  that  we  stood  there  wait 
ing  might  as  well  have  been  an  hour.  When  the 
dory  came  in  alongside  the  rock  we  were  stiff  with 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  C9 

cramp  and  cold.  Nothing  surprised  me  more  than 
the  composure  of  Christy's  grandinammy  in  greet 
ing  us. 

"  In  with  you,  lads,"  she  said,  coldly.  "  Fools 
you  be  to  resk  your  lives  for  play,  when  there's 
danger  'nuff  an'  to  spare  ahead  o'  ye." 

Into  the  bobbing  dory  we  tumbled,  one  by  one. 
Christy  took  one  of  the  oars,  Minimus  the  other, 
and  before  long  had  restored  the  circulation  of  their 
blood.  As  for  Paul  and  me,  we  for  a  time  cher 
ished  vague  intentions  of  making  springs  into  the 
witch-woman's  lap,  but  gave  it  tip,  and  shivered  be 
neath  the  thwarts. 

Talk  came  to  a  standstill.  The  boys  had  all  they 
could  do  to  pull  against  the  tide,  while  grandmam- 
my  sat  still  and  stern,  looking  far  away  towards 
the  western  sky.  IS"o  fire  ever  seemed  so  bright  as 
that  handful  of  birch  and  pine  dropped  on  the  coals 
of  the  cabin  hearth,  when  finally  we  dragged  our 
tired  feet  across  the  threshold  of  Christy's  home. 
It  was  Christy  who  took  down  from  the  dresser 
some  cold  coffee  in  a  pot,  and  put  it  to  heat  upon 
the  embers.  It  was  Christy  who  ran  back  into  an 
inner  room,  emerging  with  a  pair  of  brass-tipped 
"Sunday  shoes,  and  his  scarlet  Sunday  stockings.  It 
was  Christy  who  produced  a  large  wedge  of  apple- 
pie,  and  two  saucers  on  which  to  share  the  frugal 
feast.  The  old  woman,  having  rescued  the  boys,  be 
stowed,  apparently,  no  further  thought  on  them. 


YO  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

"  I  swan !  we  never  noticed  when  your  shoes  and 
stockings  floated  off  the  ledge,"  said  the  host. 
"  You'll  have  to  wear  mine  home ;  I  guess  they'll 
fit  you.  Here,  puppies,  I'll  give  you  a  saucer  of 
porridge  and  milk  apiece.  Little  Paul,  I'll  miss  you 
in  bed  to-night,  old  doggie ! 

To  Minimus  this  feast  of  cold  pie  and  scalding 
coffee,  blended  with  loving-kindness,  was  nectar  and 
ambrosia.  It  was  his  nearest  approach  to  the  cov 
eted  experience  of  a  shipwrecked  mariner,  as  de 
scribed  in  the  story  -  papers.  Slowly  toasting  his 
toes,  he  endued  them  with  Christy's  shoes  and 
stockings,  and  then  a  remorseful  thought  of  his  ex 
pectant  mother  quickened  his  lagging  movements. 

"  Good-bye,  old  fellow,"  he  said,  "  I  want  you, 
please,  to  keep  my  sleeve-buttons,  though  of  course 
it's  only  a  little  tiny  thing,  beside  what  you've  done 
for  me  to-day ;  and  I  don't  like  to  take  Paul  away 
from  you  one  bit,  except  that  he's  mamma's  dog, 
•not  mine." 

"  I  ca'allate  it'll  be  seventy-five  cents  a  week  for 
the  critter's  board,"  here  interposed  the  mistress  of 
the  house,  in  chilling  accents. 

Minimus,  trying  not  to  see  that  Christy's  face 
grew  red,  rose  up  and  bowed  politely. 

"  Of  course,  Mrs.  Perkins,  my  mother  under 
stands,  and  we  shall  send  the  money  for  Paul  Pry 
to-morrow." 

"  I  won't  have  any  money,"  exclaimed  Christy, 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  71 

almost  fiercely.  "  He's — he's  slept  with  me  nights, 
and  waked  me  up  a'  lickin'  my  face." 

Here  the  boy,  who  had  so  calmly  faced  the  dan 
gers  of  the  sea,  broke  down  in  a  passionate  fit  of 
tears.  My  master  looked  very  much  as  if  he  de 
sired  to  do  the  same  thing ;  but,  squeezing  Christy's 
hand  and  calling  us  to  come,  he  walked  aAvay  into 
the  gathering  darkness. 

Half-way  home  a  relief  expedition,  sent  out  in  a 
cut-under  to  overhaul  him,  heard  the  familiar  whis 
tle  of  "  Tit-Willow,"  and  discerned,  amid  the  shad 
ows  of  the  deep  wood  road,  a  little  figure  thrusting 
both  hands  into  his  breeches  pockets  as  he  trudged 
along. 


CIIAPTEK  VII. 

SHORTLY  after  this  event  a  post-card,  slipped  into 
the  mail-bag  for  New  York,  carried  the  following 
effusion : 

"DEAR  MINOU, — Can  I  ware  your  blew  tennis  cap  please 
hurry  up  and  come  up  here  it  is  dandy  I  had  an  advenshur  in  a 
cave  the  pupies  are  all  right  dont  be  Huffy  about  that  Pad  you 
can  have  it  I  was  only  funning  please  come  I  want  you  every 
day.  Yours  truly  MINIMUS." 

And  then,  one  morning,  everybody  in  our  house 
ran  to  doors  and  windows  waving  to  the  steamer 
as  she  swiftly  cut  her  way  across  the  bay.  A  little 
later  a  buckboard  drove  up,  and  out  jumped  our 
middle-sized  boy,  carrying  on  his  back  a  creel,  and 
in  his  hand  a  bundle  of  brand-new  fly-rods. 

Minor  submitted  to  be  kissed  and  cuddled  with 
exemplary  grace,  and,  although  he  had  been  since 
the  previous  morning  on  the  rail,  announced  his 
intention  to  set  out  immediately  to  fish  a  trout- 
brook  on  Dry  Mountain. 

"  Oh,  don't,  Minor  !"  pleaded  his  brother,  knowing 
full  well  that  his  own  inability  to  restrain  convcr- 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  73 

sation  made  him  impossible  as  a  companion  on 
such  occasions.  "  You  haven't  seen  the  dock,  or 
the  tennis-court,  or  anything.  Don't  fish  until  to 
morrow." 

Minor  relented,  and  we  all  ran  down  together  to 
the  shore.  There  sat,  like  a  duck  upon  the  water, 
such  a  pretty  boat ;  broad-bottomed,  yet  light  as  a 
cork,  painted  white  without,  and  within  left  in  the 
natural  tints  of  the  wood,  shellacked.  Across  her 
thwarts  lay  two  pairs  of  oars,  and  in  the  stern  ap 
peared,  in  crimson  letters,  the  name,  Sea-Urchin. 

"Isn't  that  a  surprise  for  you?"  exclaimed  Mini 
mus,  capering  about.  "  She's  mine.  I  bought  her 
with  the  money  in  my  bank,  and  the  fellow  that 
made  her  teaches  me  how  to  row.  Let's  go  out  in 
her  every  morning  and  every  afternoon,  and  come 
home  only  to  dinner  and  to  tea." 

"  All  right,"  said  Minor ;  and,  in  a  trice,  Sea  -  Ur 
chin  was  pulled  in  alongside  the  plank-walk,  and 
her  crew,  including  us,  jumped  in.  "We  pulled  out 
upon  the  beautiful  clear  water,  and  around  us  swam 
the  long,  sharp  bodies  of  the  pollock,  and  the  ugly, 
distorted  sculpins  which  the  boys  liked  better  to 
watch  over  the  boat's  edge  than  to  take  upon  their 
lines.  Once,  our  bow  ran  into  a  huge  jelly-fish  as 
big  as  a  barrel-top,  like  a  bleeding  sponge  shut  up 
in  a  transparent  bag.  Other  jelly-fish  we  saw  were 
little  cups  of  silvery  white,  with  black  rings  to  rep 
resent  their  eyes. 


74  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  Hello !"  said  Minor ;  "  that's  a  good  sign. 
Mackerel  aren't  far  off  when  these  little  fellows 
come  around.  Gemini !  Here's  a  school  of  jelly 
fish  with  all  the  eyes  torn  out.  Greedy  old  beasts 
those  mackerel  are." 

"  Well,  almost  everything  preys  on  them"  said 
Minimus.  "  Sharks  and  porpoises,  and  all  the  big 
fish,  and  sea-gulls.  There's  a  gull  now  getting  ready 
for  fishing  with  all  her  might." 

"  Slow  up,  or  we'll  scare  her  off,"  said  Minor. 
"  Isn't  she  a  pretty  creature  ?" 

The  gull,  after  describing  innumerable  curves,  had 
arranged  for  business  with  a  will.  Watching  her 
opportunity,  she  swooped  low,  dashed  up  a  little  jet 
of  sparkling  brine,  and  was  off  into  the  air  bearing 
a  good -sized  mackerel  in  his  iridescent  livery  of 
green  and  gold. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  said  Minor,  reflectively ;  "  I  s'pose 
he'll  think  it  wasn't  worth  while  swimming  all  the 
way  from  the  coast  of  Delaware  to  be  nabbed  like 
that." 

"  She  might  as  well  get  him  as  we,"  remarked 
Minimus.  "I  vote  we  row  ashore  and  get  our 
lines." 

Minor's  sentiment  was  short-lived.  Changing 
their  course,  they  pulled  back  to  the  dock.  Minimus 
ran  up  the  bank,  disappeared  at  the  den  door,  and 
reappeared  with  a  pail  and  lines.  A  few  pollock, 
taken  in  for  bait,  were  cut  up  by  that  universal 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  75 

pocket-knife,  into  whose  uses  it  does  not  do  to  in 
quire  too  closely,  and  our  philanthropists  proceeded 
to  emulate  the  example  of  the  sea-gull. 

"  Here's  number  one,"  whispered  Minor,  and,  with 
a  jerk,  in  he  whisked  a  beautiful  shining  mackerel. 
Another  and  yet  another  followed  in  quick  succes 
sion,  and  then  Minimus  felt  a  pull  upon  his  line. 

"  In  with  it,"  said  Minor,  and  in  it  came — a  hid 
eous,  goggling  sculpin,  at  sight  of  which  Paul  Pry 
turned  away  his  head  and  burrowed  into  Minor's 
tail  pocket,  while  even  I  felt  a  shudder  of  repulsion. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Minor,  "  I  can't  handle 
those  nasty  things  without  feeling  sick,  so  we'd 
better  cut  away  the  hook  and  toss  him  overboard." 

This  was  done,  and  the  monster,  with  an  Indian 
ornament  dangling  at  his  nose,  returned  to  his  na 
tive  element.  A  half -hour  later,  when  the  pail  was 
half  full  of  mackerel,  Minor  felt  a  brisk  tug  at  his 
line. 

"It's  a  whopper  this  time,"  he  exclaimed,  trium 
phant —  and  hauled  out  the  identical  old  sculpin 
they  had  cast  away,  nose-ornament  and  all ! 

Laughing  and  fishing  on  that  peerless  summer's 
day,  blue  above,  blue  below,  the  free  air  blowing, 
not  a  care  in  their  hearts,  I  questioned  if  the  cynic 
who  asked  where  happiness  is  to  be  found  outside 
the  dictionary  might  not  read  his  answer  there. 

"Gemini  AVilkins!"  cried  out  the  emancipated 
schoolboy.  "  When  I  think  I'm  going  to  have  three 


76  BAR   HARBOR  DAYS. 

solid  months  of  this,  I'd  like  to  howl.  You  don't 
know  what  a  fellow  feels.  You  aren't  in  Latin. 
Every  now  and  then,  just  from  habit,  I  shut  my 
eyes  and  gabble  '  ad,  ante,  con,  in,  inter,  ob,post,  prcc, 
pro,  sub,  and  super,  and  sometimes  circum?  But 
isn't  it  good  to  open  'em  and  find  myself  out  here 
on  Frenchman's  Bay  ?  I  just  wish  I  had  old  Allen 
and  Greenough  here  to  feed  the  sculpins  with." 

Paul  and  I  thought  he  alluded  to  his  masters  at 
the  school.  It  was  quite  a  relief  to  hear  him  say 
he  meant  the  Latin  grammar. 

"  Don't  you  wish  you  were  Christy  ?"  observed  the 
sympathetic  Minimus.  "  He  never  heard  of  Allen 
and  Greenough,  and  he  can  take  cold  whenever  he 
wants  to,  only  he  never  does.  Oh,  Minor !  you're 
sure  to  like  Christy,  and  we'll  have  such  fun  to 
gether." 

"He  must  be  a  pretty  good  sort  of  a  fellow," 
said  Minor,  coolly.  He  was  trying  hard  to  subdue 
a  sort  of  jealousy  which  would  arise  whenever  he 
thought  of  that  adventure  with  Christy  in  the  cave, 
allotted  by  unkind  fate  to  his  junior  instead  of  to 
himself. 

"  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Christy  I  don't  believe  the 
puppies  and  I  would  have  been  alive  to-day,"  pur 
sued  the  smaller  boy ;  "  and  it  was  all  mamma  could 
do  to  get  him  to  take  some  money  for  Paul  Pry. 
It  was  his  grandmammy  who  took  it,  after  all. 
And  Christy  knows  a  trout-brook  that  I'll  tell  to 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  77 

you,  if  you'll  cross  your  heart  you'll  never  tell 
Jonesy ;  because  I  promised,  don't  you  see  ?" 

Minor  kindled  into  sudden  interest.  What  fish 
erman  could  resist  news  of  a  trout-brook  undivulged 
to  the  mass  of  summer  visitors  ? 

"  We'll  go  down  to  Christy's  house  day  after  to 
morrow,"  he  said.  "  I'm  sure  he's  a  bully  fellow, 
and  I'm  glad  you  found  him  out.  To-morrow,  you 
see,  I'm  going  by  myself  to  fish  that  little  stream. 
You  know  ?" 

This  mystery  was  observed  invariably,  when  the 
subject  of  a  fishing-ground  was  broached.  Certain 
spots,  known  to  the  initiated  few,  were  to  be  dis 
cussed  in  whispers  only. 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you,"  boldly  ventured 
Minimus.  On  the  strength  of  the  fact  that  his 
brother  had  so  recently  arrived,  it  might  be  possi 
ble  to  find  him  in  a  lenient  mood. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Minny,"  said  the  stern  elder,  quite 
compassionately,  for  him.  "  But  you  know  when 
you  talked  so  much  the  last  time  I  had  to  make  a 
rule,  and  I  can't  break  it  now.  But  I'll  give  you 
my  little  old  tennis-cap,  the  blue  one  you  wrote  to 
me  about,  and  next  week  I'll  take  you  for  a  walk 
up  Green." 

"  I  don't  exactly  know  whether  it's  selfish,  mam 
ma,"  pursued  the  same  speaker  that  evening,  after 
tea,  when  we  sat  around  a  few  burning  pine-cones 
piled  on  some  balsam-boughs  upon  the  hearth. 


78  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  But  I'm  almost  glad  when.  I  have  to  fish  alone. 
Just  suppose  you  get  a  pool  where  the  trout  are, 
and  the  other  fellow  doesn't.  You  feel  like  a  per 
fect  sneak  every  time  you  take  one  out." 

Early  next  morning  he  was  down-stairs,  eating  a 
cold  breakfast  on.  the  kitchen  table,  while  his  broth 
er's  nose  was  still  buried  in  the  bed-clothes.  With 
a  parcel  of  luncheon  in  his  creel  he  stepped  out  into 
the  waking  world,  as  fresh  and  happy-hearted  as  a 
lad  need  be.  It  was  at  this  point  that  Paul  and  I 
beset  him  with  wild  .entreaties  to  be  allowed  to  fol 
low. 

"  Nice  little  puppies,"  he  said,  caressing  us  ten 
derly.  "  You'd  be  famous  company,  but  I'm  afraid 
to  trust  you.  Go  home,  now,  and  Minimus  will 
take  you  for  a  run  after  breakfast." 

But  we  had  no  idea  of  giving  up  so  easily.  We 
waited  till  he  had  turned  his  back,  then  dashed  off 
through  the  tall  meadow-grass  by  a  cross-cut,  and 
met  him  on  the  high-road. 

"  You  naughty  little  things !"  he  began,  angrily ; 
then  relenting,  as  we  jumped  all  over  him,  stroked 
us  both.  "  I've  a  great  mind  to  take  Trot,  but  what 
shall  I  do  with  Paul?" 

The  milkman,  driving  briskly  along  the  road  in 
his  hooded  cart,  offered  a  solution  of  this  difficulty. 
Paul,  captured  and  pinioned  beneath  his  stalwart 
arm,  was  to  be  carried  ignominiously  home.  I  fol 
lowed  Minor  along  the  plank-walk,  through  the 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  79 

sleepy  village,  into  the  road  beneath  the  crest  of 
Strawberry  Hill,  where  the  swamp  willows  on  either 
side  were  twinkling  as  the  sun  struck  their  dewy 
foliage.  How  sweet  it  smelt,  how  still  it  was! 
Excepting  a  boy  or  two  driving  cows,  and  men 
going  to  their  work,  we  met  no  one.  There  was  no 
dust,  no  procession  of  gay  vehicles,  as  usual.  It  is 
a  grand  thing  to  feel  that  you  have  Bar  Harbor  to 
yourself,  I  tell  you  ! 

Ere  long  we  branched  off  into  a  road  where  the 
mountains  rose  on  either  side  like  camels'  humps. 
The  gorge  between  them  Avas  filled  with  tangled 
undergrowth,  and  the  scene  was  so  desolate  it  fair 
ly  took  away  our  spirits.  On  the  slope  of  one  of 
these  gloomy  summits  lay  an  avalanche  of  shiv 
ered  granite,  amid  which  pale  flowers  bloomed  here 
and  there,  and  scant  shrubs  struggled  for  existence. 
Scattered  over  it  were  the  skeletons  of  ancient 
forest  trees,  covered  with  gray  moss  and  luxuriant 
lichen. 

I  noticed  that  Minor  whistled  a  good  deal  when 
we  were  passing  through  this  place.  I  believe  he 
felt  as  glad  as  I  did  when  we  struck  off  into  the 
woods  beyond. 

It  was  like  Graciosa  stepping  out  of  her  prison- 
well  into  Percinet's  enchanted  forest !  In  the  nar 
row  path  that  Minor  took,  I  think  a  grown  person 
would  have  found  it  hard  to  stand  upright.  It  was 
more  of  a  tunnel  than  a  path,  bedded  in  bunch-ber- 


80  BAR   HARBOR   DAYS. 

ries  and  fern,  where  birch  and  balsam  interwove 
their  boughs — 

"And  a  gloom  divine  was  all  around, 
And  underneath  was  the  mossy  ground." 

We  walked  over  great  beds  of  trailing  arbutus, 
where  the  waxen  blossoms  had  shrivelled  on  their 
stems  in  spring-time  for  want  of  a  hand  to  pick 
them,  and  still  clung  trembling  to  the  tough  green 
leaves.  The  pleasant  thing  was  that  none  of  the 
living  creatures  we  encountered  seemed  at  all  afraid 
of  us.  A  little  green  snake  writhed  across  our  path 
way,  and  paused  under  a  tuft  of  Indian  pipe  to  spy 
at  us.  A  chipmunk  sat  quietly  upon  his  branch 
and  nibbled  his  pine  nut.  A  woodpecker  drummed 
his  way  up  a  tree-trunk  leisurely ;  and,  better  than 
all,  we  came  upon  a  most  beautiful  ruffled  grouse, 
sitting  amid  a  ring  of  little  ones,  as  proud  and 
queenlike  as  could  be.  "When  she  saw  us,  however, 
she  arose,  and  in  an  instant  had  fluttered,  with  her 
young,  into  the  thicket.  It  was  like  conjurer's  work, 
to  see  her  melt  into  that  screen  of  green  young  fo 
liage. 

And  now  my  master  heard  the  sound  his  heart 
rejoiced  in,  the  trickle  of  running  waters.  To 
reach  it,  he  dived  headlong  into  a  tangle  of  slender 
birches,  and  came  out  on  the  edge  of  a  sparkling, 
dancing,  roguish  little  stream,  now  hiding  itself 
under  overhanging  grasses,  now  gleaming  between 


BAR    IIARDOU   DAYS.  81 

moss-grown  boulders,  now  widening  to  still  pools 
printed  with  shadows  of  green  leaves. 

I  saw  that  boy's  eyes  shine  Avith  a  sudden  rapt 
ure.  Casting  himself  at  full  length  on  the  bank, 
he  rolled  for  a  moment  as  a  colt  does  in  a  past 
ure.  But  time  was  precious,  and  his  fingers  itched 
to  be  handling  the  new  flies,  so  neatly  packed,  in 
all  their  gaudy  prettiness,  in  the  book  within  his 
creel. 

Just  here  he  saw  some  bits  of  pine  and  balsam 
come  floating  down  the  current.  Far  up  above  him 
on  the  mountain  he  heard  the  ring  of  a  wood-cut 
ter's  axe.  And  then,  before  he  had  time  to  be  sur 
prised,  he  caught  sight  of  a  fish — a  silvery,  pearly 
fish,  with  red  spots  on  its  sides,  lurking  beneath  an 
overhanging  rock  in  the  stream  below  !  The  blood 
rushed  into  my  master's  cheek.  Instinctively  he 
reached  out  for  his  fly -rod,  the  new,  the  costly 
fly-rod,  a  mark  of  especial  indulgence  from  his  fa 
ther.  What  an  opportunity  to  flesh  his  maiden 
sword,  to  practise  the  newly-acquired  underhand 
cast !  His  hand  fell  first  upon  an  alder  pole  he  had 
cut  and  trimmed  for  pastime  on  the  road.  In  a  tin 
box  were  some  wrorms, "  brought  along  in  case  of 
accident"  merely.  Early  habit  triumphed  over  sci 
ence.  In  two  minutes  more  a  worm  was  on  the 
hook,  the  line  tied  to  his  pole.  He  was  fishing  as 
boys  have  fished  since  the  infancy  of  Time.  And, 
if  you  will  believe  me,  the  trout  took  to  that  worm 
0 


82  I5AK   HAKBOK   DAYS. 

as  naturally  as  if  there  were  no  such  things  in  ex 
istence  as  hackles,  brown  and  gray.  Minor  landed 
him! 

After  that  came  an  extraordinary  run  of  luck. 
He  kept  on  with  the  worms,  until  there  lay  upon 
the  moss  beside  us — upon  my  word  of  honor  as 
a  well-bred  terrier — thirteen  trout  of  no  ignoble 
size! 

"  I  believe  the  wood-choppers  frightened  'em  down 
stream,  Dame  Trot,"  said  my  master,  when,  the  pool 
being  empty,  he  could  relax  his  vigilance.  "  There  ! 
You  are  the  best  little  lady  in  the  world  to  take 
a-fishing." 

I  dozed,  while  he  packed  his  fish  in  fern  and  ate 
some  gingerbread.  By  and  by  we  resumed  our 
tramp.  In  some  spots  my  master  fished  until  he 
was  tired,  and  caught  nothing  but  silly  minnows 
that  had  to  be  thrown  back  with  a  great  gash  in 
their  poor  mouths,  as  a  lesson  against  curiosity. 
Elsewhere  he  took  trout  by  twos  and  threes. 

When  noon  came,  and  the  sun  sent  straight  beams 
down  into  our  leaf-roof,  the  cook's  parcel  was  un 
folded.  All  fisher-boys  know  how  delicious,  about 
noontide,  are  those  hunky  sandwiches  the  women 
always  make  for  a  day  in  the  woods — though  you 
do  look  down  on  them  in  scorn  at  setting  out,  and 
wish  lunch  grew  on  trees,  to  save  the  bore  of  carry 
ing  it.  Minor  and  I,  between  us,  ate  four  large  beef- 
sandwiches,  two  hard-boiled  eggs,  and  six  ginger- 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  83 

cakes ;  and  he  also  found  in  the  bottom  of  his 
pocket  a  piece  of  molasses  taffy,  which  I  shared. 
With  that,  my  master  said  he  "  s'posed  he  could 
make  out "  till  supper-time. 

Our  dining-room  was  a  clear  space  under  a  low- 
swung  birch  bough ;  and,  for  table,  we  had  a  flat 
rock  cushioned  with  red-tipped  moss.  Minor  sat  on 
the  edge  of  it  dangling  first  his  toes,  then  his  heels, 
into  the  ice-cold  water.  The  delicious  refreshment 
of  this  operation  gave  him  a  new  idea,  which  was 
to  wade  up  the  stream  and  strike  a  mountain  path 
he  remembered,  or  thought  he  did,  to  have  taken 
the  year  before.  I  kept  to  the  bank,  jumping  the 
stream  where  it  was  narrow,  forcing  my  way 
through  tufts  of  wild  bamboo  and  bracken ;  while 
Minor,  laughing  and  cheering  me,  strode  splashing 
on  ahead.  He  did  not  seem  to  object  to  the  chill 
of  the  water,  which  I  found  most  unpleasant.  Here 
and  there  he  tried  his  fly-rod  in  a  pool  large  enough 
to  warrant  it,  but  the  fish  failed  to  respond.  Little 
cared  he,  with  twenty -two  trout  already  on  his 
shoulders!  At  last  we  reached  a  cross  path  he 
thought  he  recognized.  On  went  the  shoes  and 
stockings,  and  off  went  we  to  skirt,  as  we  supposed, 
the  mountain's  flank. 

Oh!  that  deceitful  mountain.  Her  evil  spirits 
were  all  abroad  to  trick  and  lure  us  as  the  after 
noon  closed  in.  One  path  cut  into  another,  and 
none  of  them  led  anywhere. 


S_j.  BAU   HARBOR   DAYS. 

And  lo!  rolling  in  from  the  Atlantic,  over  the 
mountain's  crown,  came  a  vast,  majestic  column  of 
fleecy  white. 

"Gemini  "NVilkins,  Trot!"  observed  my  master. 
"  If  that  fog  has  come  to  stay,  we're  lost." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAUL  condemns  the  close  of  my  last  chapter  as 
too  sensational.  He  says  they  will  be  expecting  a 
night  spent  upon  the  mountain,  and  a  harrowing 
picture  of  our  alarm  till  rescue  came.  Or  one,  per 
haps,  of  Minor  lying  stiff  and  stark  under  a  tree, 
with  Dame  Trot  scattering  leaves  upon  his  corpse ! 
Let  me  make  haste  to  say  that  nothing  of  the  sort 
occurred. 

When  we  found  we  were  cut  off  by  the  fog, 
my  master,  wrho  has  lungs  like  a  pair  of  bellows, 
began  to  shout.  We  listened,  to  hear  no  answer 
but  the  derisive  echoes  from  the  cliffs.  Then  Mi 
nor  leaned  his  back  against  a  tree,  looking  rather 
blank.  If  you  want  to  know  how  it  feels  to  be 
under  circumstances  like  ours  then,  just  go  to 
Mount  Desert.  The  fog  was  not  a  moist,  relaxing 
one,  but  comparatively  dry,  and  the  chill  of  death 
was  in  its  embrace.  What  we  felt  most  at  that 
juncture  was  the  sudden  cold.  Before  we  had  time 
to  give  vent  to  many  reflections  on  our  hard  lot 
wo  heard  the  noise  of  slowly-moving  wheels,  and 


86  KAll  HARBOR  DAYS. 

from  behind  the  misty  curtain  a  voice  called  out 
to  us, 

"  Hello !    Who  be  you  ?" 

You  may  believe  we  answered  promptly.  Plung 
ing  down  a  steep  bank,  Minor  found  himself  upon 
the  high-road  he  had  quitted  hours  ago,  and  not  far 
from  the  point  where  we  turned  into  the  woods. 
"We  had  been  moving  in  a  circle  ! 

The  wheels  belonged  to  a  cart  drawn  by  an  old 
white  horse,  and  filled  with  a  load  of  sods,  the 
daisies  still  blooming  on  them.  Better  than  all, 
the  driver,  who  seemed  to  identify  my  master,  told 
him  the  sod  was  an  order,  on  the  way  to  his  own 
horns.  Minor,  with  his  creel  and  rods,  and  I,  with 
my  indomitable  spirit,  were  assisted  to  the  front 
seat  of  the  cart,  where  another  boy  was  already 
perched,  holding  the  ancient  reins. 

The  other  boy  was  Christy !  He  knew  me  in  a 
minute,  and  petted  me.  But  Minor  had  never  seen 
him,  and  Christy,  being  a  shy  little  fellow,  did  not 
reveal  himself.  Minor  told  the  tale  of  his  day's 
adventure  to  admiring  hearers.  Footsore  and  weary 
though  he  was,  my  master  found  ample  compensa 
tion  in  the  display  of  the  contents  of  his  creel. 
Spite  of  slow  motion  the  time  passed  rapidly,  and 
when  we  reached  his  mother's  house  he  tumbled 
out  comparatively  fresh,  and  ready  to  appear  before 
the  united  family  as  a  conqueror. 

"  Would  you  and  the  other  little  feller  like  to  go 


BAK   HARBOR  DAYS.  87 

out  with  me  some  day  and  sec  my  lobster-traps  ?" 
the  stranger  boy  said,  shyly. 

"  Yes,  thanks.  I'd  like  to  ever  so  much,"  an 
swered  Minor.  "  Then  you  know  my  brother?" 

"  Him  and  me's  bin  round  consid'able,"  was  the 
response.  "  How's  Paul  Pry  P 

"Why,  you're  Christy!"  cried  Minor,  in  a  de 
lighted  tone. 

The  glow  of  this  discovery  accompanied  him  into 
the  house,  extending  to  Minimus,  who  rushed  out 
excitedly,  and  to  my  Paul,  who  showed  his  glad 
ness  at  my  return  by  chewing  my  ear  upon  the 
spot,  and  insisting  on  a  romp. 

Christy,  carried  into  the  Den  by  main  force,  was 
the  hero  of  the  hour.  When  his  comrade  sum 
moned  him  to  go,  the  little  fellow  carried  away  as 
many  spoils  of  our  boys'  collection  of  treasures  as 
they  could  prevail  on  him  to  take. 

The  fog  that  had  so  ensnared  us  on  the  mountain 
lasted  two  days,  during  which  our  house,  and  a  lit 
tle  fringe  of  green  around  it,  seemed  hanging  in 
the  clouds.  We  could  hear  the  water  booming  on 
our  rocks,  but  saw  nothing.  The  steamer  Sappho, 
crossing  the  bay  on  her  way  from  the  railway  ter 
minus,  was  heralded  by  a  series  of  melancholy  toots ; 
and  the  steam-yachts  now  beginning  to  fill  up  the 
harbor,  with  the  many  tugs  and  launches  always  on 
the  go,  and  the  outside  steamers  coming  in  from 
Portland  and  from  Rockland,  made  all  the  noise 


88  I5AH  IIAKBOR  DAYS. 

they  could,  to  keep  us  from  feeling  lonesome.  For 
tunately,  as  I  said  before,  there  is  not  often  such  a 
thing  as  a  wet  fog  to  be  found  at  Mount  Desert. 
They  are  left  for  those  regions  farther  south,  where 
the  waters  are  not  the  freezing  current  setting  down 
from  Baffin's  Bay,  but  the  warm  overflow  of  the 
Gulf  Stream.  Bar  Harbor  fogs  are  undeniably  so 
frigid  that  at  the  first  approach  of  one  people  kin 
dle  the  fire,  for  which  logs  are  kept  laid  upon  the 
hearth  the  summer  through.  But  they  are  rarely 
ill-mannered  fogs,  such  as  penetrate  the  bones,  and 
mould  shoes,  and  melt  starched  collars,  and  take 
hair  out  of  crimps ;  so  I  have  often  heard  the  ladies 
say. 

When  a  fog  came  on,  it  was  a  signal  for  us  to 
take  up  all  sorts  of  neglected  household  tasks  and 
in-door  occupations.  The  piano  was  made  to  give 
forth  merry  waltzes,  books  were  read,  letters  were 
written,  diaries  resumed,  embroidery  brought  out. 
"While  the  blockade  lasted  it  was  a  kind  of  Christ 
mas  holiday  in-doors. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  there  \vere 
symptoms  of  a  change.  The  fog  took  on  a  silvery 
lustre.  We  saw,  over  against  Bald  Porcupine,  the 
dazzle  of  white  canvas  where  the  sunlight  settled 
on  the  sails  of  a  yacht  whose  hull  was  still  invisi 
ble.  Green  summits  of  the  islands  next  emerged 
from  void.  A  flock  of  sea-gulls,  circling  in  the  mist, 
tricked  tjie  eye  into  belief  that  a  snow-storm  was  in 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  89 

progress.  And  suddenly  the  great  white  curtain 
was  drawn  up,  showing  the  fair  familiar  prospect. 
At  once  the  water  was  alive  with  sails  and  oars. 
All  nature  had  awakened  to  an  ecstasy  of  motion 
after  trance. 

That  day  was  one  when  the  entire  family  kept 
jumping  up  and  running  to  the  windows  and  ve 
randa.  Nothing  was  heard  but  "  Did  you  see  that 
burst  of  sunshine  through  the  fog  ?"  or,  "  Look  at 
the  purple  streaks  the  clouds  print  on  the  water !'' 
— and  so  on.  I  remember  it  particularly,  because 
we  came  very  near  being  shipwrecked  through 
trusting  to  appearances  of  calm  upon  the  sea. 
Longing  for  a  row,  we  set  out  to  go  to  the  Indian 
wharf:  my  mistress,  the  two  lads  and  ourselves, 
with,  fortunately,  a  boatman  in  command.  When 
we  pulled  away  from  our  dock  the  water  was  ab 
solutely  smooth.  In  ten  minutes  a  flaw  of  wind 
swept  over  the  bay,  ruffling  its  surface  into  long 
green  ridges,  capped  with  foam. 

Our  boys  cried  out  delightedly,  but  my  mistress 
looked  anxious,  and  after  we  had  shipped  one  or  two 
seas  that  drenched  the  spinal  columns  of  poor  Paul 
and  myself,!  too  began  to  wish  the  voyage  at  an  end. 

As  usual  with  our  experiences  of  hair -breadth 
escapes,  nothing  in  particular  happened  beyond  our 
getting  very  wet ;  by  laboring  hard  the  man  was 
able  to  run  the  boat  in-shore  to  a  gravelly  bit  of 
beach,  where  we  landed,  to  walk  home. 


90  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

Tho  western  sky  was  piled  with  clouds,  the  air 
had  a  flavor  of  autumn,  and  the  waves  kept  roll 
ing  in  noisily.  Not  a  bit  of  canvas  was  to  be  seen 
in  harbor,  only  bare  masts  and  pitching  hulls ;  but 
far  out  beyond  the  islands  we  beheld  a  two-masted 
schooner  under  sail,  flying  like  a  sea-ghost  before 
the  gale.  It  was  the  sort  of  evening  when  one's 
thoughts  turn  to  lamp  and  fireside  with  peculiar 
relish,  even  while  exulting  in  the  tumult  out-of- 
doors. 

At  night  it  blew  up  so  cold,  December  seemed 
upon  us.  Blankets  were  heaped  upon  the  beds ; 
back-logs  wTere  brought  from  the  cellar;  there 
was  a  sense  of  intense  exhilaration  in  the  atmos 
phere.  And  above  the  heaving  sea  we  saw  the 
northern  sky  palpitate  with  rosy  radiance,  while 
bursts  of  light  came  and  went  like  the  opening  of 
windows  into  heaven.  I  heard  this  day  spoken  of 
by  people  afterwards  as  a  "  specimen  of  Mount 
D.esert,"  so  I  thought  I  had  better  write  down  how 
it  appeared  to  me. 

Having  failed  to  reach  the  Indian  encampment 
on  that  occasion,  we  walked  there  the  next  day. 
Nothing  worthy  of  note  occurred  until  we  encoun 
tered,  in  a  cove  where  a  small  fresh-water  stream 
flowed  to  the  sea,  a  most  agitating  cow.  I  observed 
my  mistress  gather  her  skirts  around  her  and  look 
to  the  right  and  left,  as  if  seeking  some  easier  meth 
od  of  reaching  the  path  beyond  where  the  cow  stood. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  91 

She  even  said  "Good  Sukey,"  in  a  tremulous  tone 
of  voice.  The  boys,  who  cleared  the  stream  at  a 
bound,  stood  on  the  other  side  and  kept  saying 
"  Silly  !"  "  Oh !  come  on,"  and  other  disrespectful 
things  ;  and  when  my  mistress  finally  made  up  her 
mind  to  pass  the  enemy,  I  observed  her  close  her 
eyes.  We  followed  suit,  and  when  safely  up  on  the 
steep  hillside  above,  I  turned  and  barked  furiously 
at  the  creature.  If  I  am  any  reader  of  animal 
physiognomy,  that  cow  possessed  the  worst  traits 
of  which  her  species  is  capable. 

It  was  a  pleasant  walk  across  the  bluff  leading  to 
the  Indian  camp.  So  many  wild-roses  grew  there, 
amid  thickets  of  sweet-fern  and  vanilla  grass,  that 
the  air  was  embalmed  with  odors.  Approaching 
the  settlement  in  the  rear,  we  saw  more  of  their  in 
side  life  than  in  front,  where  all  is  swept  and  gar 
nished  for  customers.  Old  women  hovering  over 
pots  and  kettles ;  girls  up  to  their  elbows  in  dye- 
stuff;  old  men  mounting  birds,  curing  seal -skins, 
or  hanging  upon  lines  the  dyed  splits  to  be  woven 
into  baskets ;  dogs  and  babies  without  number.  I 
was  disgusted  by  the  variety  of  curs  that  came 
skulking  and  snuffling  after  Paul  and  me — the  ugly, 
ill-bred  creatures.  Worse  than  all  was  a  huge  cat, 
black  as  jet,  with  eyes  of  glaring  green,  who  met 
me  in  a  narrow  path,  and  hunched  her  back  up, 
spitting  venom  and  defiance.  If  my  reader  (Paul 
says  I  ought  to  call  you  "gentle  reader,"  but  it 


92  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

seems  to  me  old-fashioned)  has  never  been  to  Mount 
Desert,  it  may  bo  well  to  give  here  what  informa 
tion  I  have  been  able  to  pick  up  about  the  Indians, 
in  their  summer  camp,  Avhich  everybody  goes  to 
see.  My  mistress  told  the  boys  they  must  look  re 
spectfully  upon  these  tribes,  since  they  were  lords 
of  the  soil  long  years  before  the  mushrooms  of  sum 
mer  aristocracy  sprang  up  in  Maine.  During  the 
Revolution  the  Penobscots  were  allies  of  the  colo 
nists,  she  said,  and  for  their  services  were  allowed 
to  keep  a  large  tract  of  land  on  the  Penobscot  Eiver. 
But,  like  most  old  grandees  in  this  America  of  ours, 
they  have  parted  with  their  estate,  and  are  strug 
gling  on  to-day  in  the  effort  to  make  an  honest  living. 
That  they  are  brave,  patient,  and  law-abiding  in  the 
communities  where  they  wander  now  as  aliens,  none 
deny.  In  religion  many  of  them  are  Catholics,  at 
tending  on  Sunday  the  little  Church  of  St.  Sylvia, 
nestling  beneath  the  crest  of  Maiden  Hill  at  Bar 
Uarbor.  I  remember  we  met  an  Indian  maiden 
once  upon  her  way  from  mass,  and,  in  her  fashion 
ably-made  polonaise  of  ruby  velvet,  and  Gainsboro' 
hat  and  plumes,  she  looked  like  a  bird-of-paradise 
in  a  barn-yard,  beside  the  island  girls. 

With  these  Penobscots  unite  certain  Passama- 
quodies  in  the  business  of  supplying  Bar  Harbor 
visitors  with  their  wares.  Their  dwellings,  half 
tent,  half  booth,  are  erected  to  leave  a  well-swept 
carriage-road  between  the  lines,  and  here,  every  day 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  93 

during  the  season,  conie  throngs  of  people  from 
whom  an  unsuspected  philosopher  like  myself  is 
able  to  derive  a  good  deal  of  quiet  fun.  To  see  the 
young  ladies,  for  example,  going  the  rounds  trying 
their  accustomed  coquetries  of  shopping  upon  those 
Indians !  Little  shrieks,  pouts,  conversation  meant 
to  edify  the  man  behind  the  counter,  flirtation  with 
attendant  swains,  are  so  much  wasted  ammunition. 
Lo  !  the  poor  Indian,  looks  down  upon  them  utterly. 

Within  the  booths  are  draperies  of  red  and  blue 
and  orange  calico,  or  bunting.  Broad  shelves,  serv 
ing  as  counters,  present  a  charming  medley  of  har 
monious  colors.  Baskets  of  every  shape  and  tint 
are  piled  into  glowing  masses.  Seal-skins  and  deer 
skins,  pipes  and  sticks  fashioned  from  distorted 
roots,  canoes  and  paddles  great  and  small,  snow- 
shoes,  lacrosse-bats,  bows  and  arrows,  moccasins  and 
caps — what  do  not  their  skilful  fingers  put  into  cap 
tivating  guise  to  witch  away  the  money  of  the 
idler  ?  Then  there  are  gulls'  breasts  and  wings, 
stuffed  owls,  pearly  grebe  plumage,  and,  their  latest 
novelties,  wood-baskets  and  flower-pots  of  birch- 
bark,  etched  with  a  frieze  of  native  scenes. 

Lola,  the  queen,  is  a  sovereign  of  generous  pro 
portions,  living  in  a  circular  tent,  around  which  are 
planted  vines  of  the  California  cucumber,  and  sun 
flowers.  We  found  her  that  day  sitting  on  a  low 
split-bottomed  chair,  knee  to  knee  with  a  gossip  in 
shawl  and  bonnet,  suggesting  Betsy  Prig.  Fast  as 


94  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

her  hands  could  fly  she  was  shaping  a  waste-paper 
basket  of  deep,  soft  yellow,  braided  with  vanilla 
grass.  Her  majesty  accorded  us  but  small  consid 
eration  until  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  Paul  and  me. 
Then  her  dull  eye  lighted  up,  and  her  lips  parted  to 
give  utterance  to  this  immortal  phrase  : 

"  Humph !  Reel  pooty  little  dogs !"  Which,  for 
a  remark  from  royalty,  is  as  original  as  one  could 
ask  for.  My  mistress  bought  of  Lola  a  flat  basket 
to  hold  handkerchiefs,  then  passed  on  to  a  tent 
where  the  proprietor,  a  stately  old  fellow,  wore  a 
clean  gauze  undershirt,  with  bran-new  slop  shop 
trousers. 

At  his  feet  sat  the  prettiest  little  maid,  with  ripe 
red  lips,  and  dusky  hair  tied  up  with  a  knot  of 
crimson !  They  had  dressed  her  in  a  petticoat  of 
yellow  stuff  and  a  dark-blue  jersey.  Spite  of  the 
visitors  who  came  and  went,  she  kept  busy  with 
the  playthings  in  her  lap — a  china  doll,  some  shells, 
some  bits  of  silk  and  ribbon  packed  in  a  small  tin  box. 

A  visitor,  in  talking  with  the  owner  of  this  tent, 
asked  for  news  of  his  ne'er-do-weel  nephew,  a 
Moosehead  guide  of  unsavory  reputation. 

"  John  ?"  grunted  the  Indian  ;  "  John  he  git 
hanged  pooty  soon.  Do  John  good  to  hang  him, 
anyway." 

In  another  tent  we  found  a  pretty  young  woman, 
helping  her  husband  to  dispose  of  the  sweet  grass 
baskets,  for  which  they  were  particularly  famed. 


BAR   HARBOR   DAYS.  95 

The  man,  a  good-looking  fellow,  wore  a  smart  red 
shirt,  with  bands  of  Indian  work,  and  an  embroid 
ered  belt.  It  so  happened  that  every  basket  of 
which  my  mistress  asked  the  price  was  valued  at 
"  one-dollar-half."  While  waiting  for  her  to  make 
selection,  the  young  squaw  heard  a  sound  we  had 
not  noticed  in  the  rear  tent,  darted  in  there,  and 
presently  reappeared  carrying  in  her  arms  a  rose 
bud  of  a  baby. 

"  Oh !  what  a  beauty !"  exclaimed  my  mistress. 
"  I  suppose  you  will  sell  him,  too,  for  a  dollar  and 
a  half." 

"  !Kot  for  all  the  money  in  the  world  !"  answered 
the  mother,  her  stolid  face  becoming  suddenly  aglow 
with  feeling,  as  she  hugged  her  treasure  close.  It 
was  a  pretty  little  scene. 

My  mistress  bought  a  square  basket,  then  a  long 
basket,  then  a  round  basket,  a  basket  with  a  lid,  and 
a  basket  without  a  lid.  Everybody  does  the  same  at 
Bar  Harbor.  When  the  visitors  prepare  to  go  away 
the  agony  of  packing  these  fragile  acquisitions  is 
met  by  the  Indians,  who  put  them  up  in  barrels,  to 
be  sent  to  distant  points,  often  across  the  ocean. 
And  thus  it  is  that  in  a  hundred  homes  remote  from 
the  Maine  island  arises  at  midwinter  the  fragrance 
of  summer  walks  in  fields  beside  the  sea.  Let  the 
wind  rave  as  it  lists,  the  sleet  dash  on  the  window 
panes,  a  whiff  of  sweet  grass  brings  back  Mount 
Desert ! 


96  BAR   HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  Trotty,"  at  this  point  interrupts  my  Paul,  "  I 
have  a  grave  fault  to  find  with  you.  You're  not 
connected.  You're  not  statistical.  Kobody  would 
undertake  to  visit  Mount  Desert  with  }TOU  to  guidd 
him.  In  short,  my  dear,  you  are  a  disappointment." 
"What  am  I  to  do  ?  I'm  not  a  guide-book.  I  didn't 
set  out  to  lead  a  blind  man  by  a  string ;  and  it's  too 
late  to  alter  it.  I  could  cry. 

But  no !  Paul  isn't  everybody.  And,  for  all  his 
criticism,  I  don't  believe  he  could  have  done  it  bet 
ter.  I  suppose  he  would  have  put  in  the  distances, 
and  the  heights  of  mountains,  which  I  never  can 
remember.  Oh,  dear !  I  must  do  something  to  re 
deem  my  character.  Our  boys  say  you  are  a  copy 
cat,  if  you  write  in  anything  that's  been  already 
printed,  but  here  have  I  found  such  a  nice  card,  en 
titled  "  Legal  Kates,"  given  us  by  a  buckboard  man 
last  summer.  Please  read  it.  It  tells  you  every 
thing,  as  straight  as  can  be,  about  the  things  you 
ought  to  see,  and  never  stops  to  gush  about  the 
views : 

DRIVES  FROM  BAR  HARBOR. 

LEGAL  RATES. 

SECTION  8. — The  folio-wing  shall  be  the  rates  of  fare,  for  the 
conveyance  of  persons  and  for  the  hire  of  vehicles  and  drivers, 
•within  the  town  of  Edeir. 
Vehicles  with  one  horse,  per  hour $1  CO 

do.  do.        per  day G  00 

Vehicles  with  two  horses,  per  hour 2  00 

do  do.          per  day 1200 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  97 
FROM  BAR  HARBOR  TO 

S.  W.  Harbor  and  return— for  each  passenger $2  00 

Top  of  Green  Mt.  and  return,  do.  do 1  05 

N.  E.  Harbor  via  Otter  Creek,  and  return  via  the  Sound — 

for  each  passenger 1  50 

Somesville  and  return— for  each  passenger 1  25 

Beech  Hill  do.  do.  do 1  50 

Wood's  District  and  return  via  Salisbury's  Cove — for  each 

passenger 1  25 

Town  Hill  and  return — for  each  passenger 1  25 

Hull's  Cove,  via  Eagle  Neck  and  Beechneck — for  each 

passenger 1  00 

Ovens  and  return— for  each  passenger 1  00 

Otter  Creek  do.  do.  do 75 

Great  Head  do.  do.  do 75 

Sch'r  Head  do.  do.  do 75 

Eagle  Lake  do.  do.  do 75 

Foot  of  Kebo  Mt.  do.  do 50 

For  the  22-mile  drive  via  Somesville — for  each  passenger.  2  00 

There !  I  feel  better  now.  I've  been  statistical. 
"  Cela  soulage  /"  as  I  heard  of  a  Frenchwoman  say 
ing,  when  she  boxed  her  husband's  ears — though  of 
course  I  don't  approve  of  her ! 

E".  B. — I  hope  Paul  will  read  this. 
7 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"WE  arc  going  to  have  a  gypsy  party  at  Eagle 
Lake,  Dame  Trot,"  said  my  young  friend  Minimus, 
one  July  morning,  when  I  had  just  seen  a  large 
buckboard,  drawn  by  four  stout  little  mountain 
horses,  with  red  tufts  in  their  heads,  swing  around 
the  circle  and  pull  up  before  the  front  door  of  our 
house. 

"  Take  the  dogs  ?  Why  not  ?  Of  course  we 
shall,"  said  a  man's  voice  on  the  porch,  in  answer 
to  some  remark  from  the  hall  inside.  "  They  will 
behave  splendidly ;  I'll  answer  for  it." 

The  person  who  spoke  was  the  master  of  the 
house.  At  his  apparently  unimportant  and  kindly 
observation  a  grin  overspread  the  guileless  counte 
nance  of  Minimus.  Minor,  who  came  around  from 
the  kitchen  yard,  stuffing  his  pockets  with  ginger- 
cookies,  by  way  of  incidental  lunch  upon  the  road, 
also  smiled  broadly.  The  children's  mother,  who 
issued  from  the  door,  her  arms  laden  with  wraps 
and  boat  -  cushions,  parasols,  and  paper -covered 
books,  wore  around  her  lips  an  expression  of  sup- 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  99 

pressed  mirth.  Two  of  the  maids,  engaged  in  help 
ing  the  backboard  man  to  pack  in  the  rear  of  his 
vehicle  a  huge  hamper  of  provisions,  were  discreet 
ly  hilarious. 

Why  this  was,  nobody  told  me.  It  may  have 
been  the  reflection  upon  holiday  faces  of  such  a 
July  sun  as  shines  for  Mount  Desert  alone.  Some 
how  or  other  I  could  not  help  suspecting  the  en 
tire  household  had  been  party  to  a  plot  by  which 
Paul  and  I  were  to  be  admitted  to  the  joys  of  gyp- 
sying  on  Eagle  Lake.  Paul,  who  had  been  inside 
the  hall,  informed  me  afterwards  that  my  mistress 
had  merely  said  to  my  master  in  a  casual  kind  of 
way,  "  Of  course,  it'll  never  do  to  carry  these  little 
rascals.  They  are  sure  to  be  in  everybody's  way." 

Sometimes,  not  often,  my  master  would  take  the 
opposite  side  of  a  question ;  and  this  was  one  of 
those  times,  though  of  course  nobody  in  the  house 
had  supposed  such  a  thing  to  be  possible ! 

Paul  jumped  several  feet  into  the  air  from  pure 
joy,  and  I  followed  his  example,  both  of  us  turning 
a  summersault  upon  a  nasturtium-bed  before  we 
got  right  side  up  again.  Luckily  we  had  no  pea- 
jackets,  or  fishing-tackle,  or  anything  to  get  before 
we  started.  We  stuck  there,  close  to  the  tail  of  the 
buckboard,  until  it  left.  Nobody  ever  found  us  out 
of  the  way  when  an  expedition  was  ready  to  set  off. 

After  a  great  deal  of  talk,  and  much  running 
back  into  the  house  again  for  forgotten  ulsters, 


BAR  HARfeOR- IXASS.    '•     ••••'••• 

lose  his  spirits — when  he  was  put  on  the  buckboard 
seat  beside  my  mistress's  maiden  aunt  from  Kala- 
mazoo,  who  asked  him  a  good  many  questions  about 
botany  and  geology.  On  the  seat  immediately  be 
hind  the  driver  sat  the  bicycle  young  man.  Next 
him  a  large,  round,  red-straw  hat,  with  a  steeple- 
crown  and  lots  of  red  feathers.  When  the  hat 
turned  around  you  saw  it  had  a  very  pretty  girl 
inside;  but  from  the  rear  it  was  principally  hat. 
Next  to  the  red  hat,  Minimus  was  perched.  He 
had  a  rubber  sling,  and  from  his  pocket  took  out 
no  end  of  buckshot,  which  rattled  through  the  trees 
along  the  roadside  during  the  whole  course  of  our 
drive. 

"  Look  there !  Did  you  see  that  ?"  Minimus 
would  cry,  hailing  Minor,  sitting  next  his  mother  in 
the  rear.  "  I  don't  believe  I  ever  came  nearer  hit 
ting  a  chipmunk  in  my  life."  Which  was  indis 
putable. 

Up  hill  and  down  dale  the  buckboard  rolled  mer 
rily.  When  we  reached  places  where  the  road  went 
sharply  down  into  a  valley,  to  mount  immediately 
a  steep  ascent,  the  driver  gave  a  soft  little  chirrup 
and  off  the  four  horses  dashed  at  a  gallop,  never 
pausing  till  they  reached  the  first  "  thank-ye-marm  " 
on  the  hill  beyond.  The  first  time  this  occurred,  my 
mistress's  maiden  aunt  became  panic-stricken.  She 
seized  the  coat-sleeve  of  the  canoe  young  man.  She 
wore  black  kid  gloves,  too  long  in  the  fingers,  and 


IIARPOR  DAYS. 

I  think  she  must  have  pinched  him.  What  else 
could  account  for  the  frown  upon  his  brows,  and  a 
certain  smothered  exclamation  heard  by  me  alone  ? 

At  Eagle  Lake  there  is  a  sort  of  wayside  inn,  in  a 
clearing  among  the  pines  near  the  steamboat  wharf. 
We  went  in  to  inquire  about  the  boats  we  had  en 
gaged  by  telephone.  The  young  man  who  informed 
us  it  was  all  right,  and  preceded  us  to  the  spot  of 
embarkation,  wore  a  glistening  silver  shield  upon 
the  lapel  of  his  coat.  Minor's  quick  eyes  discerned 
the  legend  inscribed  thereon.  Falling  behind,  he 
called  the  attention  of  his  brother  to  the  fact  that 
their  guide  was  a  "  champion  contortionist,"  having 
won  his  badge  by  distinction  in  the  field  of  this  es 
pecial  branch  of  athletic  accomplishment. 

"  When  we  come  back  this  way,  if  there's  time, 
he  says  maybe  he'll  contort  for  us,"  added  Minor. 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  seeing  him,"  said  the  world- 
weary  Minimus.  "  But  we've  been  to  all  the  india- 
rubber  men  that  Barnum  could  scare  up !" 

Three  row-boats,  courtesy  ing  on  the  rippled  sur 
face  of  a  jewel-bright  lake,  received  our  numbers. 
Minor,  on  whom  his  mother  was  fond  of  depending 
for  her  aquatic  pleasures,  claimed  one  pair  of  the 
oars  in  her  boat.  I  sat  in  my  mistress's  lap,  watch 
ing  the  strong,  regular  stroke  of  our  youthful  scull 
er.  With  his  Tarn  o'  Shanter  set  on  the  back  of 
his  brown  head,  the  loose  collar  of  his  blue-flannel 
shirt  unbuttoned,  the  familiar  frown  upon  his  brow, 


i.l.M  I  N    MOUNTAIN   FIU)M  EAOI.K   LAKE. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  103 

with  flushed  checks  and  arms  bared  for  action,  he 
was  a  picture  of  health  and  happiness.  In  the  bow 
sat  the  bicycle  young  man,  who  seemed  to  have  a 
great  deal  to  say  to  my  mistress,  with  very  little 
variety  in  the  theme,  which  was  the  perfections  of 
Baltimore  girls  in  general,  and  of  a  certain  young 
lady  in  a  red-straw  hat,  in  particular.  My  mistress 
listened  in  a  patient  sort  of  way.  She  seemed  to 
find  pleasure  enough  in  looking  before  her  at  the 
green  hillsides  curving  down  to  form  the  hollow 
which  holds  this  inland  sea.  I  noticed  that  from 
shore  to  shore  of  the  two  extremities  of  the  lake  she 
said  about  five  words.  And  yet  the  bicycle  young 
man  told  the  canoe  young  man,  in  my  hearing, 
while  they  were  having  their  cigarettes  after  lunch 
eon,  a  little  later,  that  he  had  never  found  my  mis 
tress  so  agreeable  before. 

In  mid-lake  there  passed  us  the  toy  steamboat 
Wauginett,  with  her  quota  of  tourists,  bound  for 
the  ascent  of  Green  Mountain.  Looking  up  the 
seared  and  barren  mountain-side  we  saw  a  train 
creeping  cautiously  down  the  perilously  steep  in 
cline.  Minor  said  it  was  a  serpent,  who  had  his 
lair  in  the  mountain-top,  descending  to  gorge  him 
self  with  mortals.  Willing  victims  they  are,  appa 
rently,  since  all  summer  long  the  little  railway  does 
a  thriving  business.  Tourists  in  high  hats,  with 
paper  collars  and — odious  word ! — gripsacks ;  tour 
ists  in  Derby  hats,  with  baggy  English  trousers ; 


104  KAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

tourists  in  rainbow-flannel  coats,  with  heclless  can 
vas  shoes — come  and  go,  with  appropriately-attired 
females  in  their  wake. 

Everybody  should  see  Green  Mountain  from  the 
top,  they  say,  and  almost  everybody  does.  Way 
up  on  its  denuded  summit  is  a  great  hotel,  which, 
when  the  electric  lights  are  set  ablaze  at  nightfall, 
looks  from  below  like  an  illuminated  lyre. 

Eagle  Lake  .has  another  most  important  mission 
to  fulfil  beside  that  of  carrying  pleasure-seekers 
upon  her  billowy  bosom.  From  her  crystalline 
depths  flows  the  great  water-supply  of  Bar  Harbor. 
Silvery  brook-trout,  of  noble  proportions,  are  caught 
in  this  favored  lake,  and  in  winter  fishermen  from 
the  village  take  them  in  numbers  through  holes  cut 
in  the  ice. 

After  a  couple  of  miles  or  more  of  steady  rowing 
we  had  reached  the  try  sting-place.  One  interesting 
feature  of  our  boat  was  that  it  carried  the  luncheon- 
hamper,  and  myself.  So  when  we  got  there  first, 
driving  our  bows  in  between  a  huge  boulder  and 
a  smooth,  wide  stone,  I  naturally  felt  that  the  suc 
cess  of  the  occasion  was  established. 

We  scrambled  ashore,  finding  our  way  around 
the  sandy  beach  to  a  spot  delightfully  overshad 
owed  by  birches  and  fragrant  balsams.  Scattered 
about  were  gray  masses  of  granite,  overgrown  with 
rock-fern.  On  the  edge  of  the  woods  behind  us 
grew  gnarled  and  twisted  cedars,  forming  natural 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  105 

arm-chairs.  "Waves  that  were  hardly  more  than 
wrinkles  on  the  blue  made  a  gentle  motion  amid 
the  sedge-grass  at  our  feet.  From  the  forest-depths 
came  a  smell  of  ferns  and  balm  and  spicery.  It  was 
not  hard  to  be  happy  there. 

By  the  time  the  other  boats  came  leisurely  ashore, 
Minor  and  the  bicycle  young  man  had  worked  won 
ders  in  the  way  of  preparation.  Driftwood,  dis 
torted  roots  made  gray  and  polished  by  the  action 
of  waves  and  sunshine,  broken  boughs  of  fir  and 
cedar,  dried  bracken  and  pine-cones  were  heaped 
together  against  a  rock  and  set  ablaze.  A  table 
cloth  laid  on  the  dry  sand  was  decked  around  the 
edge  with  ferns  and  buttercups.  Then  Minor  and 
the  bicycle  young  man  unpacked  the  basket.  Good 
ness  !  how  my  mouth  watered.  It  is  painful  to 
have  to  confess  it,  in  a  literary  fox-terrier  of  esthet 
ic  taste,  but  when  I  saw  the  things  that  came  out 
of  that  hamper  I  had  to  yelp  ! 

Paul  heard  me  from  his  boat  and  yelped  back. 
He  told  me,  when  he  reached  my  side,  that  the  air 
of  the  lake  had  made  him  positively  ravenous.  He 
did  not  think  it  possible  to  hold  out  two  minutes 
longer.  For  my  dear  Paul's  sake  I  then  was  guilty, 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  of  a  most  unladylike 
action.  I  walked  right  down  to  the  middle  of  the 
table-cloth,  between  the  mayonnaise  salmon  and  the 
devilled  lobster,  and  helped  m}Tself  to  a  chicken- 
wing.  Strangely  enough,  nobody  but  my  mistress 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

saw  mo  do  it,  and  she  looked  so  distressed  by  my 
breach  of  good  manners  that  my  heart  smote  me. 
Although  I  had  carried  that  wing  some  distance 
off,  I  took  it  back  to  her  and  laid  it  in  her  lap. 
Then  I  rolled  over  on  my  back  and  cringed,  a  way 
we  fox-terriers  have  of  asking  to  be  pardoned. 

"  JSTo,  thank  you,  Trotty,"  said  my  mistress,  laugh 
ing.  "  You  may  have  it  now,  you  naughty  little 
girl." 

By  the  time  Paul  and  I  had  crunched  that  bone 
between  us,  and  had  returned  to  join  the  company, 
there  was  the  canoe  young  man,  with  a  dish-towel 
pinned  around  his  waist,  and  a  chefs  cap  made  of 
a  newspaper,  cooking  beefsteaks  on  the  embers  of 
our  lire.  There  was  the  young  lady  with  the  red- 
straw  hat,  cutting  up  tomatoes  on  a  bed  of  ice. 
There  was  the  maiden  aunt,  without  her  black-kid 
gloves,  making  coffee.  There  was  the  master  of 
our  house,  lying  on  a  sand  bank  in  the  sun,  under 
the  impression  he  was  doing  the  main  part  of  every 
body's  work.  There  was  Minimus,  barelegged,  in 
the  shallow  water,  catching  minnows  in  a  pail. 
There  were  the  bicycle  young  man,  cooling  cham 
pagne  in  the  lake,  and  Minor  cracking  ice  for  it. 

A  newly-married  couple  I  haven't  mentioned  be 
fore,  chiefly  because  of  their  temporary  objection 
to  be  included  with  unemotional  humanity,  had  re 
tired  to  a  little  distance  and  were  heaping  up  sand 
hills  to  cover  with  their  rugs.  They  seemed  to 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  107 

think  the  shore  of  Eagle  Lake  was  a  desert  of  the 
most  approved  pattern — the  place  people,  just  be 
fore  and  after  their  honeymoon,  talk  about  flying 
to,  in  company  with  the  chosen  of  their  hearts. 
Lastly,  there  was  our  mistress  calling  upon  every 
body  to  come  and  eat  her  feast. 

Oh,  that  feast !  For  the  only  time  that  I  can 
remember  such  a  thing,  Paul  and  I  got  more  than 
we  cared  to  eat.  No  stingy,  jaw-breaking  dog-bis 
cuit,  no  chopped  things  from  other  people's  plates. 
It  was  grand  !  glorious  ! 

As  for  Minor  and  Minimus,  those  two  boys  began 
at  A  and  ate  down  to  Z,  on  the  bill-of-fare.  Minor 
broke  down  first,  and  put  away  his  plate  with  a  sigh 
of  genuine  regret.  But  that  astonishing  Minimus 
kept  it  up  some  time  longer.  For  a  boy  of  slender 
build,  with  rather  a  sentimental  cast  of  face,  he  is 
the  most  valiant  trencherman  of  my  acquaintance. 

We  lounged  and  dozed  and  chatted  quietly  dur 
ing  an  hour  or  so  of  that  golden  afternoon.  Then, 
consigning  our  traps  to  a  boatman,  who,  towing 
two  of  the  boats,  rowed  in  the  third,  on  his  return 
to  our  starting-point,  we  set  out  to  cross  on  foot  the 
carry  between  the  lake  and  Jordan's  Pond. 

"  Say,  rather,  to  plunge  headlong  into  Fairy 
Land,"  cried  the  romantic  young  lady  of  our  party. 

If  Fairy  Land  be  green,  and  still,  and  dc\vy ;  a 
solitude  of  garnered  fragrance,  of  fir-boughs  shut 
ting  out  the  blue  above  ;  of  fern,  knee-high  to  mor- 


108  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

tals,  a  very  jungle  for  fairy  feet  to  err  in ;  of  moss 
under  foot,  moss  coating  the  rocks  scattered  along 
the  narrow  trail,  moss  on  tree-trunks,  moss  every 
where  ;  of  hidden  brooks  and  birds,  that  made  mu 
sic  for  the  wayfarer ;  of  clustering  crow's-foot,  ar 
butus,  shepherd's-pipe,  and  partridge-berry — then 
was  our  lady  right. 

We  met  two  young  men  in  knickerbockers  car 
rying  canoes  upon  their  heads.  They  looked  like 
some  queer  kind  of  perambulating  turtles,  as  they 
bobbed  up  and  down  the  rough  path,  and  from 
under  their  birch-bark  roofs  came  the  smothered 
strain  of — 

"  The  flowers  that  bloom  in  the  spring,  tra-la." 

"  Oh ! —  ''  broke  out  impatiently  the  master  of 
our  house. 

"  Bother  the  flowers  of  spring !"  chimed  in  Minor 
and  Minimus,  interrupting  him. 

"  That  was  not  what  I  intended  to  say,"  remarked 
the  master,  mildly ;  "it's  not  half  strong  enough  to 
express  my  feelings.  I  might  as  well  be  back  in 
Kew  York,  with  the  hand-organs." 

"  Will  this  please  you  better  3"  said  the  bicycle 
young  gentleman,  who,  among  other  accomplish 
ments,  had  a  very  sweet  voice,  in  singing : 

"  Under  the  greenwood  tree, 
Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  turn  his  merry  note 
Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat. 


BAH  HARBOR  DAYS.  109 

Come  hither,  come  hither;  come  hither, 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather." 

" '  More,  more,  I  prithee  more ,' "  said  everybody ; 
and  then  the  woods  rang  with  songs  and  glees,  and 
catches.  They  sang  all  'they  knew,  from  "  Scot 
land's  Burning,"  and  "  Three  Blind  Mice,"  to  that 
robust  old  English  hunting-chorus : 

"  A  southerly  wind,  and  a,  cloudy  sky, 

Proclaim  it  a  hunting  morning; 
Before  the  sun  rises  away  we  will  fly, 

Dull  sleep  and  a  downy  bed  scorning. 
To  horse,  my  brave  boys,  and  away, 

Bright  Phcobus  the  hills  is  adorning; 
The  face  of  all  nature  looks  gay, 
'Tis  a  beautiful  scent-laying  morning. 
Hark — hark,  forward, 
Tirrila,  tirrila,  tirrila!" 

As  the  last  joyous  tirrila  died  in  the  silence  of  the 
wood  we  saw  daylight  at  the  end  of  a  bowery  vista. 
Paul  and  I  bounded  ahead,  the  lads  upon  our  heels. 
"We  came  out  upon  the  pebbly  beach  of  another  per 
fect  lake,  locked  in  the  chill  embrace  of  cliffs  that 
rose  on  either  side.  Here  more  boats  aAvaited  us, 
and  we  again  embarked,  to  dawdle  away  the  re 
mainder  of  the  day. 

Half  way  across  the  lake,  the  boat  with  Minor 
in  it  came  to  a  standstill,  then  veered  off  under  the 
shadow  of  the  cliff.  "Well  did  I  know  what  he  had 


BAK  HARBOR  DAYS. 

in  mind,  and  greatly  did  I  lament  my  ill-fortune  in 
being  in  the  other  boat.  I  saw  the  fly-rod  unpacked, 
and  the  landing-net  bestowed  upon  the  boatman. 
Then  Minor  stood  up  and  cast,  while  the  hearts  of 
Minimus  and  Paul  and  I  swelled  with  honest  prido 
in  reflecting  upon  our  connection  with  the  hero  of 
the  hour. 

For  we  knew  he  would  have  luck.  None  of 
us  were  at  all  surprised  when  one  of  our  gentle 
men  remarked,  "  Hullo !  That  boy  has  got  a 
rise."  All  other  business  was  suspended,  while 
we  watched  him  tire  his  prey.  Presently,  down 
went  the  landing-net,  and  up  came  a  splendid  lake- 
trout.  Then  only,  an  exultant  cry  arose  from 
Minimus. 

"I  couldn't  help  that  squeal,"  said  the  little 
boy,  repentantly.  "It  was  just  squeezed  out  of 
me." 

It  was  not  till  towards  sunset  that  the  fishing-boat 
came  up  with  ours.  Minor's  first  prize,  weighing 
a  pound  and  a  half,  had  been  followed  by  several 
smaller.  His  face,  burned  to  a  uniform  deep  red, 
expressed  purest  satisfaction. 

Why,  ah,  why  did  that  summer's  sun  go  slanting 
to  its  rest — one  half  the  lake  in  shadow,  the  rest 
like  molten  silver?  Did  it  not  serve  to  remind  the 
master  of  our  house  that  a  buckboard  was  awaiting 
us  on  shore  ? 

I  don't  know,  however,  but  that  one  of  the  pleas- 


BAH  HARBOR  DAYS.  HI 

antest  features  of  a  buckboard  party  is  the  drive 
home  in  the  cool  of  evening,  amid  the  uprising 
thyiny  fragrance  of  the  fields,  the  spicy  odors  of  the 
forest,  and  the  waft  of  brine  that  comes  into  one's 
nostrils  when  a  turn  of  the  road  brings  to  view  a 
glimpse  of  tossing  sea. 

As  we  drove  through  the  village,  we  saw  signs 
at  some  of  the  hotels  that  those  inevitable  "hops" 
were  beginning  to  be  in  progress.  I  hope  I  am  not  a 
misanthrope,  but  I  must  protest  against  the  extraor 
dinary  fancy  for  this  form  of  entertainment.  Why 
sensible  people,  who  journey  here  to  rid  themselves 
of  the  wear  and  chafe  of  work-a-day  employment, 
or  society  monotony,  should  consider  it  a  joy  to 
put  on  evening  clothes  and  caper  in  those  melan 
choly  halls,  I  know  not !  I  heard  a  gentleman  say 
once  that  such  entertainments  bear  to  those  of 
the  actual  world  of  fashion  the  relation  of  cleaned 
gloves  to  new  ones.  But  the  ladies  cried  him  down, 
and  told  him  his  comment  was  neither  just  nor 
witty.  And  they  went  on  as  before.  They  gener 
ally  do. 

It  is  true  that  men  in  flannel  shirts  and  knicker 
bockers  are  no  longer  to  be  seen  waltzing  with  girls 
in  low-cut  gowns  that  have  served  their  seasons  in 
the  ball-rooms  of  Delmonico  and  in  Washington. 
The  men  who  do  not  care  to  dress  now  haunt  the 
verandas  and  discuss  the  crowd  inside.  And  ah  ! 
how  pretty  those  girls  inside  are,  to  be  sure,  after 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

their  clays  spent  in  rowing,  canoeing,  climbing,  rid 
ing  in  Bar  Harbor  air.  From  all  quarters  of  the 
continent  they  gather,  and  unite  in  a  veritable  rose 
bud  garland !  Yes,  one  forgives  the  hotel  hops  for 
bringing  them  together ! 


CHAPTER  X. 

ANOTHER  morning,  when  the  bay  was  rippled  with 
little  waves,  enough  to  make  a  delicious  lapping 
sound  upon  our  bows,  we  pulled  over  to  call  on  a 
schooner,  anchored  a  stone's-throw  from  our  shore. 

Our  lads  were  on  terms  of  highest  sociability 
with  these  anchored  fishermen,  and  were  almost 
daily  in  the  habit  of  visiting  their  craft,  secured 
this  side  the  bar  from  the  fierce  undertow  that 
makes  great  steam  yachts  roll  unceasingly  farther 
down  beyond  the  pier.  Often  as  not  the  skipper 
was  ashore  for  the  day,  and  our  boys,  fastening 
their  painter  to  the  schooner's  cleats,  would  climb 
aboard,  fancying  themselves  monarchs  of  the  deck. 
Many  a  stolen  voyage  did  they  thus  take ;  in  imag 
ination,  now  merchantmen,  now  whalers,  now  pi 
rates  of  the  most  unyielding  pattern. 

To-day  our  masters  were  aglow  with  animation 
about  an  offer  that  had  been  made  them  to  buy  for 
thirty  dollars  a  baby -schooner,  then  courtesying  on 
the  tide  beside  her  consort.  True,  they  labored  un 
der  the  double  disadvantage  of  an  empty  exchequer, 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

and  a  positive  dash  of  cold  water  on  their  schemes 
from  authorities  at  home.  But  what  are  obstacles 
to  Hope  springing  eternal,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  (I 
would  have  finished  the  quotation,  but  that  Paul 
said  "  Copy  Book !"  when  he  looked  over  my  shoul 
der).  So,  with  longing  eyes  fixed  on  the  coveted 
treasure,  they  rowed  around  her,  and  bade  her  own 
ers  not  part  with  her  until  they  had  had  an  oppor 
tunity  to  refuse  to  buy. 

It  was  a  comical  thing  that,  although  each  boy 
knew  the  other  to  be  within  little  less  than  a  hun 
dred  years  of  the  time  when  he  could  expect  to  sail 
the  baby-schooner  for  himself,  Minor  assumed  quite 
naturally,  and  Minimus  was  imposed  on  by  that  as 
sumption,  that  he  should  be  the  skipper. 

"  You'll  have  to  behave  yourself  pretty  well  be 
tween  now  and  then,  I'll  tell  you,"'  said  Minor,  with 
importance ;  "  it  will  be  a  good  deal  of  a  responsi 
bility  for  me  to  take  you  out  on  cruises." 

"  I'll  work,  Minor,"  exclaimed  his  brother,  ear 
nestly.  "  You  know  I  can  do  everything  'most,  but 
ship  the  staysail ;  and  I'll  let  you  have  those  rubbers 
for  your  sling-shot  crotch,  as  soon  as  we  get  home." 

"  Yery  well,  then ;  but  whether  I  keep  you  or 
not,  will  depend  entirely  on  your  obedience  to  or 
ders.  We'll  take  Christy,  of  course,  and  Jonesy, 
though  I'm  afraid  Jonesy's  a  molly-coddle  kind  of 
boy  on  the  water.  Maybe  we'll  sail  to  Marblehead 
and  see  the  race." 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  115 

"And  when  you  get  sea-sick,"  suggested  Mini 
mus,  with  a  gleam  of  malice,  knowing  the  weak 
point  of  his  superior  officer,  "  I'll  have  a  chance  to 
sail  her  by  myself." 

"  Mind  your  oar  there,  and  stop  your  gabbling," 
cried  Minor,  a  flush  deepening  the  sunburn  of  his 
cheek.  Paul  Pry  thought  he  would  throw  oil  upon 
the  waters  by  engaging  me  in  a  romp.  One  or  two 
of  our  tricks  were  always  to  be  relied  on  in  making 
our  boys  laugh,  and  these  we  now  tried  successfully. 
While  we  all  were  as  merry  as  could  be,  we  heard  a 
squeaky  voice  in  the  air,  apparently : 

"  Lively  crew,  haint  yer  ?" 

We  had  come,  without  noticing  it,  close  to  a  fish 
ing  craft  that  had  anchored  under  the  shoulder  of 
Bar  Island  in  the  night.  On  deck  sat  a  queer-look 
ing  old  fellow,  yellow  as  parchment,  and  dressed  in 
a  }rellow  tarpaulin  suit,  chopping  herring  for  bait, 
with  a  pail  between  his  knees. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  the  boys,  politely.  "  We 
noticed  you  had  anchored  here,  and  we  called  your 
boat  Grubby.  Not  that  there's  any  reason  for  it," 
Minor  made  haste  to  add,  fearing  to  give  offence ; 
"  but  we've  silly  names  for  everything." 

"  Iley  ?"  squeaked  the  little  old  man. 

He  was  quite  deaf,  but  that  did  not  prevent  the 
boys  from  extracting  sundry  morsels  of  information 
as  to  what  his  boat  cost  when  it  was  new,  how  many 
lish  he  had  taken  in  a  season,  and  would  he  kindly 


116  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

tell  them,  to  settle  a  dispute,  which  the  storm-jib 
was? 

"  Why,  sakes  alive  !"  said  the  old  man,  smiling, 
to  display  a  single  tooth,  "  ye're  as  chipper  as  a  nest 
o'  birds.  'Pears  to  me  I've  got  gran' children  'bout 
the  age  o'  you  two,  out  in  Dakoty  somewheres.  I 
ain't  heerd  from  Abijy  in  a  year  or  so.  Abijy's  my 
youngest,  thirty-five,  I  guess.  Never  had  no  fancy 
for  the  sea ;  and  Seth's  a  shoemaker,  an'  the  gals  is 
merried  an'  dead  long  sence." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  us  some  of  your  advent 
ures,"  said  Minor,  pleased  to  come  upon  a  commu 
nicative  spirit.  "  Sea-stories,  I  mean !"  he  added, 
in  a  high  soprano. 

"  Sea-stories,  hey !  Waal,  youngsters  like  to  hear 
yarns,  sartin  sure.  Don't  know  as  there's  anything 
out  the  way  to  tell  you.  When  a  man's  followed 
the  sea  for  up'ards  o'  fifty  year — an'  I  went  a  cabin- 
boy  when  I  was  hardly  turned  o'  twelve — it's  kind 
er  same-like.  Lemme  see.  I  bought  the  schooner 
daown  to  Bosting  before  wife  died.  Paid  five  hun 
dred  dollars  for  her  daown.  Wife,  she  was  powerful 
sot  on  me  ownin'  my  own  boat.  Luck  turned  arter 
that.  Fust,  wife  she  died,  and  then  my  oldest  gal, 
Mariey,  while  I  was  cruisin'  off  the  Isle  o'  Shoals. 
Them  gals  took  arter  wife,  sartin.  I'm  one  o'  the 
old  pine  knots,  I  guess.  Never  took  an  ounce  o' 
doctor's  stuff,  an'  never  had  a  sickness  in  my  life 
— 'ceptin'  rum-sickness  once  in  port,  an'  that  was 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  117 

«i  sorter  accident" — here  he  indulged  in  another 
toothless  grin. 

-Where  do  you  live,  when  you're  at  home?" 
asked  Minimus,  in  trumpet-tones. 

"  Home  !  Why,  jest  here,  where  you  sees  me ; 
summer  an'  winter.  I  sails  her  up  an'  down  the 
coast,  'twixt  here  an'  Bosting.  Pretty  snug,  inside." 

"  What  was  the  worst  storm  you  ever  had  ?" 
asked  the  inquisitor. 

*•  Waal,  I  guess  'twas  that  sleet  storm,  comin'  in 
port  to  Gloucester,  seven  year  back,  one  Christmas 
Eve.  Wind  nor'west,  heavy  seas  washin'  over  her 
and  freezin'  hard,  till  there  was  four  inch  o'  ice  on 
deck.  Had  to  turn  the  ash-pan  from  the  cabin  stove 
bottom  up'ard  on  the  deck  to  make  a  foothold,  an' 
my  beard  and  ITar  friz  lively." 

';  That  is  a  very  interesting  story,"  said  Minor ; 
"  thank  you  very  much.  If  you  like,  we'll  come 
again  to  see  you." 

"  We  couldn't  have  gone  on  deck  if  he  had  asked 
us,"  remarked  Minimus.  "It  was  too  dreadfully 
fishy  for  anything ;  and  I  wish  he  had  a  few  more 
teeth,  even  two  more  would  be  something." 

"  I  vote  we  take  him  out  a  pie,  next  time  we  go. 
Apples  would  be  no  use." 

u  He  might  bake  'em,"  suggested  Minimus.  "  I 
say,  Minor,  the  flag's  up !  Let's  go  and  see  the  her 
rings  in  the  weir.  Old  Grubby  said  it's  the  biggest 
catch  this  season." 


118  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

Accordingly  the  Sea-Urchin  grated  her  bow  on 
the  pebbly  bar  beneath  the  fish-houses.  Securing 
her  in  safety  from  the  rising  tide,  we  picked  our  way 
over  the  stones  to  the  weirs  beyond.  On  the  shore 
wagons  were  in  waiting,  and  as  fast  as  one  was 
filled  with  the  barrelled  herring  it  was  driven  across 
the  bar  to  a  steamer  on  the  pier.  Up  to  their  knees 
in  water  stood  men  in  tarpaulins  and  rubber  boots, 
ladling  from  dories  hauled  up  beside  the  beach 
thousands  of  silvery  fishes.  Behind  them  were  the 
boats  already  emptied  of  their  loads,  painted  blue 
or  red  without,  and  within  gorgeously  lined  with 
iridescent  scales  that  caught  the  sunshine. 

"See  those  barrels,  Minny,"  said  his  brother, 
"they've  got  ice  at  the  bottom,  and  when  they're 
full  more  ice  goes  in  on  top  of  the  fish." 

"  I  wonder  what '  W.  Gardner,  Boston,'  means  to 
do  with  all  these  fish,"  said  Minimus.  "  As  many 
red  herring  as  grow  in  the  sea,  I  think  there  are." 

"  Bait  for  the  fishing-fleet  down  to  Boston,"  vol 
unteered  one  of  the  tarpaulins.  "  Eight  berrels  to 
this  load,  Charley.  All  right.  Go  ahead.  I  guess 
you  can  make  out  to  get  across." 

Off  went  the  wagon,  grinding  heavily  upon  the 
pebbles,  the  horses  accepting  their  fate  with  com 
plete  indifference  to  the  fact  that  already  a  part  of 
the  road  was  under  water,  and  that,  in  a  short  time, 
it  would  be  entirely  submerged. 

The  boys  ran  down  for  a  moment  to  peep  into 


15 All   IIAIIBOR  DAYS.  119 

the  weirs — fences  of  ragged  stakes  and  interwoven 
branches,  with  dead  leaves  clinging  to  them,  in  a 
melancholy  way.  Spite  of  the  barrelling  that  had 
gone  on  since  daybreak,  the  pounds  were  still  alive 
with  the  swarming,  shining  victims. 

"  Poor  little  things !"  said  Minor.  "  If  the  big 
fish  don't  get  'em,  the  summer  boarder  does.  One 
thing  is  certain.  You  can't  believe  herrings,  as  you 
see  'em  here,  or  strung  up  in  the  wood-smoke  over 
on  the  island,  are  those  same  smelly  ones  in  the  cor 
ner  groceries  in  town.  It  must  take  all  the  winds  of 
Mount  Desert  to  blow  the  badness  out  of  them." 

"  I'm  going  up  to  the  flag-staff,  to  look  at  the 
view,"  said  Minimus.  Paul  and  I,  strange  to  say, 
had  no  fixed  plans,  and  were  quite  satisfied  to  adopt 
the  first  suggestion  that  came  up. 

It  is  a  charming  old  hill-top,  where  stands  the 
farm-house  whose  gable  windows  seem  always  like 
a  pair  of  eyebrows  cocked  up  in  astonishment  at 
the  changes  in  Bar  Harbor. 

Resting  there,  beneath  the  flag-pole,  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  had  not  come  upon  a  better  place  from 
which  to  picture  for  my  readers  the  appearance  of 
the  village.  I  own  that,  at  first  sight  of  the  city  of 
hotels,  the  mind  is  apt  to  lose  itself  in  mere  whimsi 
cal  speculations  as  to  the  numbers  of  sets  of  cottage 
furniture,  of  wood-slat  springs,  of  washbowls,  of 
cakes  of  soap,  of  keys  and  keyholes,  required  to 
provide  for  the  demands  of  the  summer  population. 


120  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

I  tried  to  fancy  how  far  around  the  island  would 
extend  the  bird-bath  dishes  in  use  at  the  hotels. 

But  look  again,  and  presently  there  fades  out  ev 
erything  from  that  landscape  but  the  mountains. 
The  vagrant  village,  the  stores,  fish-houses,  wharves, 
the  confusion  of  architecture,  the  incongruity,  the 
old  and  new  jostling  each  other — are  all  forgotten 
in  the  mood  imposed  by  those  stately  dominating 
summits.  They  are  to-day  what  they  were  to  the 
illumined  eyes  of  earliest  pilgrims  to  this  Eden  of 
the  East. 

So,  too,  is  the  sea  unchanged  that  of  old  laved 
the  granite  feet  of  the  Enchanted  Island. 

"  Skip  that,  old  girl !"  says  abominable  Paul.  "  Be 
warned  in  time,  and  skip  it." 

Pity  me,  my  reader,  what  am  I  to  do  ? 

When  we  took  our  boat  again,  the  pencil-mark 
of  a  path  across  the  blue  water  was  entirely  effaced. 
Standing  on  a  narrow  and  rapidly-vanishing  strip 
of  land  under  the  fish-house,  were  some  people  who 
had  been  caught  by  the  tide  in  their  walk  upon  the 
island.  To  dwellers  near  the  bar,  it  is  a  source  of 
almost  daily  entertainment  to  sit  calmly  on  their 
verandas,  and,  with  an  opera-glass,  study  the  ex 
pression  and  movements  of  persons  so  entrapped. 
Sometimes  ladies  have  submitted  to  be  carried  like 
meal-sacks  by  their  gallant  cavaliers.  Others  pre 
fer  wading,  and,  in  one  way  or  another,  much  di 
version  is  to  be  had  by  an  industrious  observer. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  121 

This  time  we  were  able  to  effect  a  rescue,  and  our 
boat  ferried  to  the  opposite  shore  in  safety  a  very 
hungry  couple,  whose  hotel  gong  sounded  afar  in  a 
tantalizing  rumble. 

'  In  the  afternoon  Christy  came,  and,  the  lady  of 
our  house  having  offered  a  reward  for  the  services 
of  the  three  lads  in  what  she  called  "  tidying  up  the 
rocks,"  we  had  a  very  busy  time.  It  should  be  said 
that  for  this  purpose  exclusively  a  man  had  been  for 
some  days  past  engaged  to  work.  He  was  a  mild- 
mannered,  loose-jointed  native,  fond  of  smoking  and 
of  looking  out  to  sea.  He  came  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  stayed  till  six  in  the  afternoon,  and,  during  the 
week,  had  succeeded  in  making  some  nice  collec 
tions  of  dead  leaves,  dried  vines  and  branches,  which 
the  wind  generally  scattered  before  he  could  get 
around  to  them  with  a  wheelbarrow.  He  was  a 
very  pleasant  man,  the  boys  reported,  could  tell 
them  lots  of  things  they  liked  to  hear,  and  distin 
guished  himself  by  discovering  a  bees'  nest  in  the 
bushes,  which  he  allowed  them  to  burn  out.  For 
this  reason  they  had  styled  him  the  "  bumbly-bee 
man,"  and  he  continued  to  be  known  among  us  by 
no  other  title. 

To-day  the  bumbly-bee  man  had  elected  to  stay 
away,  and,  armed  with  brooms  and  rakes,  the  bovs 
went  down  upon  the  rocks  above  the  sea-wall  to 
usurp  his  privilege. 

Perilous  but  pleasant  thoy  found  it  to  cling  with 


122  RAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

one  arm  to  a  tree,  and  rid  the  crevices,  where  blue 
bells  longed  to  grow,  of  encumbering  rubbish ;  to 
clear  the  roots  of  fern  and  golden-rod  and  aster 
yet  to  bloom.  And,  last  of  all,  to  comb  down  from 
the  hillside  to  the  beach  huge  piles  of  dry  leaves 
and  branches  as  a  nucleus  for  bonfires. 

Then,  when  evening  came,  the  crowning  joy  of 
lighting  beacons  to  blaze  up  beneath  a  rocky  bas 
tion  !  Away  into  the  shadows  of  the  bay  streamed 
the  red  glare,  continually  fed  by  driftwood  from 
the  beach. 

Around  the  blaze  skipped  three  cheery  demons 
— accompanied  by  Paul  and  me  in  all  their  intri 
cate  evolutions.  And  by  and  by  something  large 
and  round,  and  virgin  gold  in  color,  arose  into  the 
heavens  and  put  out  lesser  lights. 

"While  we  stood  rapt  and  silent,  to  render  homage 
to  that  summer  moon,  I  can  remember,  a  peculiarly 
appetizing  fragrance  was  wafted  from  the  kitchen 
of  our  house. 

"  It's  waffles,"  remarked  Minor,  sententiously,  and 
after  that  not  all  the  witcheries  of  land  and  sea  and 
regnant  queen  of  night  could  hold  us  captive.  We 
left  the  bonfires  to  their  fate.  The  glare  lessened, 
became  a  fitful  blaze,  then  smoldered  sullenly,  till 
the  rising  tide  swept  over  and  extinguished  it  for 
ever. 

Later  on,  with  sated  appetites,  we  came  back  to 
view  the  scene.  The  boys'  mother  had  just  begun 


BAR   HARBOR   DAYS.  123 

to  repeat  to  them  some  poetry  in  praise  of  moon 
light  on  the  sea,  when  she  remembered  they  had 
forgotten  to  fetch  the  grass-rake  from  the  rocks. 
Sentiment  was  merged  into  prompt  maternal  chid 
ing,  but  in  vain.  The  grass-rake  had  gone  off  with 
the  tide,  as  also  a  new  basket  bought  that  day ! 

"It  would  have  been  cheaper,  perhaps,  to  keep 
on  with  the  bumbly-bee  man,"  she  murmured,  pen 
sively. 


CIIAPTEE  XL 

I  HOPE  my  mistress  will  never  see  what  follows. 
I  don't  want  to  hurt  her  feelings,  but  I  must  say  I 
think  people  who  are  making  a  new  lawn  are  not 
apt  to  be  agreeable.  When  we  first  came  to  live 
here  in  June  she  had  found  a  fine  crop  of  pale-green 
grass  coming  out  all  over  her  circle,  bank,  and  ter 
race.  As  the  blades  increased  in  size,  she  used  to 
get  up  early  in  the  morning  to  measure  them ;  she 
watched  like  a  dragon  to  see  that  nobody  set  foot 
on  them  ;  and  listened  abstractedly  to  the  conver 
sation  of  all  visitors  unless  it  chanced  to  turn  upon 
the  Methods  of  Causing  Turf  to  Grow  in  a  hith 
erto  Barren  Spot.  She  habitually  carried  grass- 
seed  in  her  pocket,  and,  on  uprooting  a  weed,  would 
pop  a  couple  of  atoms  into  its  place,  with  an  air  of 
determination  to  carry  her  point  and  banish  all  in 
vaders.  Later  on  we  detected  her  transplanting 
knots  of  grass  from  gravel  path  to  border,  and  trim 
ming  them  with  the  silver-mounted  scissors  from 
her  dressing-case. 

But  these  peculiarities  were  mild  compared  with 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  125 

her  habit  of  manoeuvring  that  long,  black,  slimy  ser 
pent  of  a  garden-hose  all  over  the  place.  Such  a 
thing  as  an  afternoon  nap  upon  the  lawn  was  im 
possible,  though  one  of  the  boys  disgraced  himself 
by  observing  that  if  you  wanted  to  keep  dry  you'd 
better  stand  in  the  spot  mamma  was  aiming  for. 
Each  member  of  the  household  was  in  turn  del 
uged  ;  and  the  same  fate  befell  an  urbane  gentle 
man  who  called  with  a  series  of  pictures  of  phe 
nomenal  roses  and  tomatoes,  which  he  shot  out  in 
a  long,  unfolding  scroll  at  the  moment  he  obtained 
the  eye  of  the  person  of  the  house. 

It  fell  out  that  a  chipmunk  had  set  himself  to 
dig  a  cavern  in  this  cherished  lawn,  and  being  dis 
covered  and  routed,  the  hole  was  left  to  be  lilled 
up  on  the  morrow.  Chancing  to  find  ourselves 
alone  near  the  spot,  Paul  and  I  thought  we  would 
enjoy  a  little  digging  on  our  own  account. 

"  You,  I  think,  had  better  do  the  work,  Dame 
Trot,"  said  Paul.  "  My  recent  illness  has  left  me  a 
little  weak.  Besides,  it  is  better  on  such  occasions 
for  one  to  exert  the  brain-power,  and  you,  my  love, 
will  hardly  lay  claim  to  that  share  of  the  enter 
prise." 

I  consented,  of  course,  and,  screened  by  a  rock 
overgrown  with  vines,  I  dug — almost  to  China,  be 
fore  Paul  suddenly  exclaimed—  Shall  I  tell  you 
what  he  said  ?  I  blush  so,  it  is  quite  painful.  But 
remember  that  dearest  Paul  had  been  exposed  to  us- 


120  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

sociations  of  which  my  refined  nature  knew  nothing. 
Of  course  he  learned  it  at  that  dreadful  veterinary 
place.  I  only  hope  you  will  not  understand  him. 
He  said,  "  Cheese  it,  the  Cop  !" 

There  was  my  mistress,  who  had  come  out  on 
the  veranda.  I  thought  she  did  not  see  us,  for  she 
immediately  sat  calmly  down  on  the  upper  step,  and 
appeared  to  be  busied  about  a  tub  of  red  geraniums. 

"  Pshaw  !"'  said  Paul,  waxing  valiant.  "  She  don't 
care.  Let's  keep  on  to  Hong  Kong." 

But  I  had  reckoned  without  my  hostess.  I  forgot 
that  immediately  beneath  the  geranium-tub  was  a 
faucet  under  the  projecting  verge  of  the  veranda 
floor,  to  which  a  length  of  hose  was  generally  at 
tached.  A  stream  of  intensely  cold  water  struck 
me  amidships,  so  Paul  said.  He  got  only  his  two- 
inch  tail  wet,  and  could  afford  to  be  witty  on  the 
subject !  I  was  so  insulted,  so  aggrieved,  that  I  re 
tired  to  a  place  we  called  Bonypart — a  museum  for 
bones  and  scraps — and  sulked  till  dinner-time.  My 
heart  swelled  with  a  sense  of  unappreciated  merit. 
It  was  one  of  those  me-against-the-world  moments 
we  have  all  of  us  experienced. 

Then  a  revengeful  spirit  took  possession  of  me. 
I  remembered  a  new  door-mat  that  was  to  be  sent 
back  to  the  village  shop  to  be  exchanged.  I  told 
Paul  where  it  was,  and  proposed  to  him  to  drag  it 
from  the  shelf,  and  fetch  it  to  our  lair  beneath  the 
alders. 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  127 

"  What  Larks,  Trot !"  said  Paul,  and  off  he  ran  to 
fetch  it.  Nobody  saw  him,  and,  falling  upon  it, 
tooth  and  nail,  in  ten  minutes'  time  we  reduced  that 
mat  to  shreds.  Tufts  of  jute  flew  through  the  air 
and  lodged  among  the  bushes,  enough  to  keep  the 
birds  in  nest-lining  for  years  to  come.  When  the 
ruin  was  complete,  we  faced  each,  other  calmly. 

"  I  am  avenged,"  I  said ;  "  I  feel  better  now,  but 
hungry.  There  is  the  lunch-bell,  Paul.  I  think  if 
you  could  find  a  tid-bit,  I  could  eat." 

"  Hum !"  said  Paul.  "  They're  pretty  close  up 
there,  around  the  kitchen,  since  the  orders  were 
given  to  keep  us  on  dog-biscuit." 

"  No,  Paul !"  I  said,  decidedly.  "  I  protest.  Shat 
tered  as  my  nervous  system  is  to-day,!  am  not  strong 
enough  to  tackle  a  dog-biscuit.  A  merry  thought 
of  chicken,  if  you  can,  or  some  sponge-cake.  Only, 
do  be  quick." 

Paul  disappeared,  but  in  a  very  short  time  re 
turned  dejected,  cakeless,  chickenless. 

"  They  are  a  family  of  tyrants,"  he  said,  scorn 
fully.  "  See  here,  Trot,  if  you'll  believe  it,  I  went 
into  the  dining-room  and  gave  them  every  one  of 
my  best  tricks  in  succession.  I  jumped,  I  coaxed, 
I  stood  on  my  hind-legs,  and  rumbled  in  my  throat. 
Nobody  noticed  me,  though  I  saw  the  boys  had 
shiny  places  in  their  eyes,  and  twitches  in  the  cor 
ners  of  their  mouths.  In  my  discouragement  I 
licked  the  hand  of  Minimus,  which  hung  below  the 


128  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

table-cloth.  I  tried  to  control  myself,  and  to  seem 
to  know  nothing  of  any  door-mat." 

"  '  Don't  forget  to  cut  a  switch  directly  after 
luncheon,'  said  the  father  of  our  boys.  '  Those 
puppies  must  be  taught  not  to  do  wanton  damage 
to  property,  before  they  are  a  day  older.' ': 

"  <  Won't  Trotty  catch  it,  though !'  said  Minor." 

At  these  words  alow  groan  escaped  me. 

"  Paul,"  I  whispered,  trembling,  "  is  he  really 
going  to  whip  us  ?" 

In  Paul's  sympathy  he  hunted  up  a  favorite  old 
marrow-bone  of  ours  we  had  buried  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  and  together  we  gnawed  on  it  till  our 
nervousness  was  in  some  degree  allayed.  Then 
Paul  proposed  to  me  to  run  away  to  Christy's. 

"Haven't  I  heard  them  often  tell  how  Colin 
Clout  ran  away  the  first  time  he  heard  a  powder- 
cracker  go  off,  and  never  stopped  till  he  reached  a 
farmer's  sixteen  miles  away,  where  he  had  spent 
the  winter  ?  Let  us,  my  Damelet,  emulate  his  ex 
ample.  Let  us  flee  from  tyrant  rule." 

Losing  no  time  in  debate,  we  fairly  clipped  it  by 
the  kitchen  porch.  Easy  enough  to  run  across  the 
meadow  to  the  road,  where  grasses  two  feet  high 
concealed  us  from  observation  from  the  house. 

As  we  tore  through  the  village  people  looked 
after,  but  nobody  offered  to  stop  us,  supposing  the 
boys,  as  usual,  to  be  upon  our  heels.  When  we 
passed  some  lads  holding  bunches  of  bulrushes  for 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  129 

sale  to  ladies  and  gentlemen  as  they  drove  by,  one 
of  them  stooped  down  and  tried  to  seize  Paul ;  but 
my  comrade  slipped  through  his  fingers  and  re 
joined  me.  No  time  now  for  those  pleasant  side- 
journeys  into  the  bushes,  and  up  on  banks,  and  into 
house-yards ! 

When  at  last,  weary  and  worn,  we  gained  the 
shelter  of  a  wood,  we  lapped  from  a  stream  run 
ning  under  some  grasses  by  the  way,  and  laid  down 
panting  upon  a  bed  of  moss.  Around  us  grew  blue 
berries  so  large  and  juicy  as  to  seem  like  grapes. 
After  nibbling  a  good  many  we  felt  refreshed,  and 
able  to  converse. 

"  Not  a  bad  place  to  camp  out,"  Paul  said,  look 
ing  around  him  critically.  "A  fellow  might  do 
worse." 

"  Oh,  Paul !"  cried  I,  "  I've  just  thought  of  a 
dreadful  thing.  It's  on  the  road  to  Christy's  that 
the  swill-man's  bulldog  lives." 

"  Bulldogs,  my  dear,"  answered  my  consort,  calm 
ly,  "  are  not  as  formidable  as  half  the  world  sup 
poses  them  to  be.  I  found  that  out  the  other  day, 
when  that  fellow  with  the  ugly  mug  and  bandy 
legs  brought  his  master  to  call  at  our  house,  lie 
was  as  mild  as  milk,  for  all  his  fierce  expression. 
Don't  you  remember  how  I  laid  him  out  behind  the 
ash-barrel  ?" 

"  True,  darling,"  I  rejoined.  "  But  he  was  a  thor 
oughbred,  and  had  been  taught  good  manners.  The 
0 


130  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

one  I  mean  runs  before  the  swill-man's  cart,  and  one 
day,  when  you  were  looking  out  of  the  drawing-room 
window  and  howling  at  something  in  the  road,  the 
wretch  told  me  if  he  ever  caught  you  off  the  place 
he'd  make  mincemeat  of  you  in  short  order." 

"  Tut,  tut,  my  Dame,"  answered  Mr.  Pry,  airily, 
"I  have  no  recollection  of  the  incident  to  which 
you  refer.  To  be  timid  is,  however,  an  engaging 
weakness  in  one  of  your  sex.  Conquer  your  fears, 
my  love,  and  rely  on  me  to  defend  you  in  any  dan 
ger.  And  now,  as  the  afternoon  is  waning,  let  us 
be  off  again." 

We  trotted  along,  neck  to  neck,  under  the  arching 
branches  of  the  forest-road.  "Whenever  wheels  were 
heard,  we  darted  into  the  woods  and  hid  till  they 
had  passed.  At  length  we  reached  the  point  where 
two  roads  came  together,  one  leading  to  the  shore 
where  Christy  lived,  the  other  to  some  unknown 
point  inland.  But  oh !  dismay !  There,  on  Christy's 
road,  was  the  swill-man's  cart,  and  loafing  along 
ahead  of  it  was  the  brute  of  a  bulldog  who  had 
threatened  to  make  mincemeat  of  my  future  hus 
band. 

Paul  saw  him  as  soon  as  I  did,  and  became 
promptly  nerveless. 

"  It's  a  vertigo  to  which  I'm  subject,  Trot,"  he 
said,  affecting  to  have  seen  nothing. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Paul  solved  the  problem 
by  setting  out  with  all  his  legs  down  the  inland 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  131 

road,  and  I,  trusting  the  enemy  had  not  espied  us, 
tore  after  him. 

We  brought  up  at  a  roadside  cottage,  once  paint 
ed  buff,  but  faded  now  to  grayish  yellow.  In  the 
yard  grew  marigolds  and  sweet  mint,  and  an  old- 
fashioned  vine  straggled  around  the  portal.  A  path 
leading  to  the  door  was  edged  with  clam-shells,  and 
two  conchs  flanked  the  door-step.  The  skull  of  a 
whale,  used  as  a  garden-seat,  occupied  the  centre 
of  a  ragged  grass-plot.  The  door  was  open ;  you 
could  see,  inside,  a  tea-table  spread  with  some  dishes 
on  a  red-checked  cloth,  and  in  the  middle  a  plated 
caster — the  whole  covered  with  a  piece  of  pink 
mosquito-netting  to  keep  away  the  flies. 

"  I  rather  like  the  looks  of  that  pound-cake  I  see 
beneath  the  netting,"  said  Paul,  who  had  recovered 
his  spirits  in  short  order.  "If  we  could  only  in 
gratiate  ourselves  into  the  affections  of  the  woman 
of  the  house.  The  question  is,  apparently,  is  there 
a  woman  of  the  house  ?" 

He  was  answered  by  the  appearance  from  a  back 
kitchen  of  a  thin  woman  with  no  shape  to  her, 
wearing  a  mustard-yellow  gown  of  calico,  with 
spots  of  blue.  Her  scanty  hair  was  rolled  in  a 
tight  knot  at  the  back,  and  skewered  with  a  horn 
comb  many  sizes  too  large  for  the  service  expected 
of  it.  She  had  in  her  hands  a  dish  of  boiled  cab 
bage,  and  another  of  milk-toast.  Putting  them 
upon  the  table,  she  went  to  the  back  door  and  blew 


132  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

a  blast  on  a  tin  horn.  Then  she  proceeded  to  ex 
tract  from  a  corner  somewhere  an  old,  old  man, 
whom  she  roughly  but  not  unkindly  placed  in  a 
split-bottomed  chair  with  arms  and  a  patch-work 
cushion,  beside  the  table. 

"  "Where's  Charley,  Susan  ?"  queried  the  old  man, 
in  a  piping  tone. 

"  The  land  sakes,  gran'ther,"  she  said,  in  a  hard, 
metallic  voice.  "  To  hear  you  talk,  a  body  wouldn't 
think  Charley'd  been  drowned  these  fifteen  year. 
Oh !  he's  coming,  pretty  soon,"  she  called  out,  in  a 
louder  tone,  which  served  to  keep  him  quiet  for  a 
while. 

"Where's  Bill,  Susan?"  began  the  feeble  pipe 
again.  "  Keep  a  bit  o'  cheese  for  Bill  to  eat  with 
his  pie.  He's  a  good  boy,  Bill — the  best  o'  the 
lot,  I  ca'allate." 

"  Bill,"  said  the  woman,  a  spasm  shooting  across 
her  face,  "  Lord  knows  where  father  is  sence  the 
Mary  Jane  foundered  off  Monhegan  five  year  back. 
Bill's  all  right,  gran'ther,"  she  added,  cheerfully. 
"  !Now  eat  your  dip-toast  while  it's  hot,  and  stop 
worrying  about  the  boys." 

Two  young  men  came  in  and  took  their  seats, 
their  faces  shining  from  brown  soap  and  water. 
They  were  tall  and  loose-jointed,  and  bronze  of 
color.  Where  the  shirt  of  one  of  them  was  open 
at  the  front  I  saw  a  ship  under  full  sail  tattooed  in 
blue  upon  his  hairy  breast. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  133 

"  Did  you  sec  Bill  anywheres  ?"  the  old  man  in 
quired,  eagerly. 

"  Oh !  Uncle  Bill's  all  right,  gran'ther,"  they  an 
swered,  as  the  woman  had  done.  It  seemed  to  be 
an  every-day  affair.  The  old  fellow  quieted,  they 
set  to  work  eating  and  talking  about  the  hay  they 
had  put  away  that  day,  the  prospect  of  lobsters 
in  their  traps  to-morrow,  and  the  like.  Presently 
gran'ther  pushed  back  his  plate  and  began  to  cry. 

"  And  I  saved  ten  men  off  that  sinking  ship  with 
these  here  hands,"  he  faltered. 

"  Yes,  you  did,  gran'ther ;  surely  everybody  knows 
'bout  it,"  said  Susan,  soothingly.  "  Why,  don't  you 
'member  'twas  all  about  it  in  the  Boston  paper? 
It's  pasted  in  the  fam'ly  Bible  there.  Yonder's  the 
silver  cup  they  giv'  you,  on  the  mantelshelf." 

"  And  nobody  saved  my  boys.  Not  one  on  'em. 
I  that  followed  the  sea  faithful  for  over  fifty  years, 
and  it  took  all  four  on  'em,  Charley  and  Bill  and 
Tom  and  'Liphalet — you'll  keep  Bill's  bit  o'  cheese, 
Susan?  Don't  forget." 

"  lie's  middlin'  bad  to-day,"  said  Susan,  as  the  old 
fellow  fell  back  into  his  chair,  silent  at  last,  but 
with  tears  un wiped  upon  his  withered  cheeks. 
"  Try  the  vinegar  with  your  cabbage,  'Lish.  You'll 
find  it  good  and  strong." 

As  we  looked  in  upon  this  scene  we  bad  no  fur 
ther  hankering  for  pound-cake.  Paul  and  I  turned 
away  quite  dejected. 


134:  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  It's  enough  to  give  any  one  the  creeps,"  said 
Paul,  who  could  not  bear  to  be  called  upon  to  sym 
pathize.  "  Let's  try  the  house  beyond,  Trotty.  I 
see  a  baby  in.  the  doorway.  It's  sure  to  be  more 
cheerful." 

At  this  house  we  found  not  only  a  baby,  but  five 
or  six  older  children,  who  came  tumbling  out  to 
look  at  us.  We  were  seized  and  petted  and  hauled 
around  till  our  outcries  brought  a  man  in  shirt 
sleeves,  who  had  been  sitting  within  at  supper. 

"Well,  if  them  ain't  a  neat  little  pair!"  he  said, 
admiringly.  "  Ha'done,  children.  Them  dogs  has 
run  away  from  some  o'  the  rusticators,  I'll  be  bound. 
Here,  wife,  give  'em  a  sup  o'  milk  and  some  o'  that 
cold  porridge." 

Eagerly  we  devoured  the  food,  being,  by  this 
time,  quite  worn  out,  and  no  longer  on  our  high 
horses. 

While  wife  was  rocking  to  sleep  the  youngest  of 
the  brood,  husband  sat  smoking  his  pipe  upon  the 
doorstep.  I  heard  them  talk  about  keeping  us  till 
some  reward  should  be  offered  by  our  owners. 

That,  and  the  fact  that  thpse  distracting  children 
had  nearly  torn  us  limb  from  limb,  decided  us  to 
seize  on  the  earliest  moment  to  escape.  Happily 
the  cottage  was  too  full  of  children  to  allow  an  inch 
of  extra  space  for  puppies,  and  we  accordingly  were 
taken  to  a  cow-stable,  a  tiny  place,  where  hens  were 
also  kept,  and  the  door  was  closed  upon  us. 


BAR   HARBOR  DAYS.  135 

"  We  may  as  well  sleep  here,  Paul,"  I  said,  look 
ing  around  me,  to  discover  a  pile  of  hay  still  smell' 
ing  of  the  meadow,  "  and  early  to-morrow,  before 
the  man  is  stirring,  we  can  easily  jump  from  that 
little  window  up  above  the  hay." 

"  I'm  agreeable,"  yawned  Paul,  affecting  to  stretch 
himself  full  length  upon  the  hay. 

That  mischievous  Paul  Pry  !  He  was  only  wait 
ing  an  opportunity  to  snatch  at  the  patient  brown 
cow's  tail.  She,  kicking  promptly,  sent  him  up  on 
top  the  hay-pile,  where  the  squawk  of  frightened 
hens  showed  he  had  one  of  them  between  his  teeth. 

Then  what  a  rumpus  !  Out  came  the  man,  swear 
ing  at  us,  as  he  stumbled  across  the  threshold.  I 
sprang  up  beside  Paul  upon  the  hay-mow. 

"  Quick  !  quick !  Out  of  the  window,  Paul,"  I 
urged,  and  he  obeyed.  I  did  likewise,  and  we  could 
hear  the  man  tramping  around,  and  the  hens  mak 
ing  a  deafening  uproar,  as  we  ran  off  in  the  twi 
light. 

I  may  as  well  insert  here  the  copy  of  a  document 
received  some  time  later  by  my  mistress,  who  was 
easily  identified  as  the  owner  of  the  two  runaways : 

Missis •- 

To  Ezra  Hopkins,  Dr. 

To  hen  fritcned  by  dogs  so  as  she  wudent  lay 75  cents. 

To  eggs  bruk  by  dogs 10  cents. 

To  board  of  dogs 10  cents. 

Total..  .  95~~ 


136  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

This  bill,  brought  to  the  house  by  a  shock-headed 
little  boy,  had  to  be  explained  to  our  proprietor, 
who,  in  this  way,  became  aware  of  a  brief  portion 
of  our  adventures.  The  ninety -five  cents  was  paid, 
and  I  grieve  to  state  this  was  not  the  only  bill  for 
damages  brought  against  Paul  and  me  that  sum 
mer. 

Still  running,  we  returned  along  the  road  by  which 
we  came.  To  reach  Christy — gentle  and  loving 
Christy — was  the  goal  of  all  our  hopes.  Turning 
down  the  fork  of  the  road  leading  along  the  shore, 
we  scampered  past  the  swillman's  house  in  tremen 
dous  agitation.  But  our  enemy  was  not  on  guard. 
The  little  brown  cottage  was  steeped  in  starlit  si 
lence.  From  afar  we  saw  the  windows  of  Fernley 
Hall,  lighted  as  for  a  party,  and  upon  the  night  air 
floated  out  above  the  boom  of  surf  upon  the  rocks 
the  sound  of  violins  and  harp.  In  the  wood-road 
katy-dids  and  tree-frogs  were  making  a  cheerful 
noise,  and  we  had  just  begun  to  feel  less  wild  and 
scared,  when  we  met  two  alarming  apparitions. 

The  first  was  a  big  horned-owl,  swooping  down 
with  such  a  fierce  glare  in  her  saucer  eyes  that  we 
huddled  together,  shaking  in  our  bones.  The  next 
was  a  strange,  great,  graceful  creature,  bounding 
across  the  road,  followed  by  another  and  still  an 
other  of  its  kind,  plunging  into  the  dew- wet  bracken 
of  the  woods  beyond. 

Red  deer,  these,  wandering  from  their  inland 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  137 

haunts,  and  puzzled  to  account  for  the  Waldteufel 
waltzes. 

Buried  in  shadows  we  found  the  Witch  Cove 
cabin.  How  out  of  harmony  it  seemed  with  the 
lights  and  music  of  its  neighbor,  Fernley  Hall ! 

Uncertain  what  course  to  pursue,  we  made  our 
way  around  the  well-known  path  to  the  water-front) 
where,  as  Paul  surmised,  the  little  lamp  was  burn 
ing  in  the  window,  the  curtain  drawn  before  it. 

"  Shall  I  bark,  Paul  ?"  I  asked. 

"And  have  the  witch  down  on  you  with  her 
broomstick.  Not  if  I  knows  myself!"  he  said. 
"  Christy's  in  bed,  no  doubt,  and  if  the  worst  conies 
to  the  worst,  we  can  slip  into  the  cow-shed  for  the 
night." 

"Paul!"  I  said,  in  a  discouraged  kind  of  way, 
"  I  don't  think  running  away  is  as  much  fun  as  it 
looked." 

"  Perhaps  you'd  have  liked  to  stay  and  '  catch 
it,' "  he  suggested,  a  little  crossly. 

"  Don't,  please ;  I  can  bear  anything  better  than 
ridicule." 

"  There  you  go,  now,"  he  said.  "  Just  like  you. 
Always  ready  to  drop  into  pathetics.  Brace  up, 
old  girl.  Nobody's  killing  you." 

I  was  silent.  This  form  of  treatment  was  one 
to  which  I  could  never  become  resigned.  While 
we  crouched  there,  disappointed  and  forlorn,  some 
thing  happened  which,  as  I  look  back  at  it,  seems 


138  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

as  unreal  and  startling  as  the  pageant  of  a  dream. 
Could  I  have  dreamed  it,  think  you  ? 

Crossing  the  line  of  light  projected  on  the  water 
by  the  lamp,  glided  a  boat  containing  a  solitary  man. 
Somewhere  in  the  woods  a  wakeful  bird  gave  ut 
terance  to  a  long,  soft,  sighing  note.  The  rower 
stopped,  scanned  the  shore-line,  and  resumed  his 
course.  He  was  coming  ashore,  no  doubt,  but  why 
at  this  forsaken  spot  ? 

How  still  it  was,  but  for  the  dip  of  oars  and  the 
swashing  of  the  tide  upon  the  rocks!  From  the 
Hall  came  a  fresh  burst  of  music.  How  the  stars 
throbbed  in  the  deep  blue  summer  sky ! 

AVere  we  surprised  to  hear  a  stir  inside  ?  A  hand 
pulled  at  the  red  curtain,  lifted  the  window.  A 
stern  gray  face  peered  out  into  the  starlight.  I 
could  plainly  see  the  look  that  came  upon  it — a 
wild,  despairing,  appealing  look ;  as  if  hoping,  yet 
certain  of  cruel  disappointment. 

The  boat  grazed  the  shore.  Out  of  it  the  man 
stepped,  securing  it  and  the  oars,  like  one  familiar 
with  the  spot — a  tall,  muscular  fellow.  He  strode 
up  the  path  haltingly,  and  with  furtive  glances 
back  and  forth. 

Now,  there  came  upon  the  peering  face  at  the 
window  still  another  look — one  of  joy,  that  trans 
figured  it.  She  put  her  finger  to  her  lip,  enjoining 
silence.  Hooded  and  cowled,  she  came  out  to  meet 
him.  And  she  dropped  into  his  arms  like  one  stone 
dead. 


IJAIl   HARBOR  DAYS.  139 

The  man  staggered  as  he  caught  her.  He  took 
her  to  the  light  and  tried  to  gain  a  view  of  the  in 
side  of  the  cabin,  but  failed.  Taking  a  flask  from 
his  pocket,  he  poured  some  of  its  contents  between 
her  lips,  and  with  a  shuddering  sigh  she  op'ened 
her  eyes  and  gazed  up  at  him. 

"  Mother.  "Why,  don't  you  know  me,  mother  ?" 
he  stammered.  His  face  was  dark  with  sunburn, 
and  overgrown  with  a  heavy  beard.  His  eyes 
seemed  to  shift  about,  as  if  they  could  not  meet 
the  look  that  searched  his  soul. 

"  Know  you  ?"  whispered  the  woman,  withdraw 
ing  herself  weakly  from  his  arms.  "  Ay,  that  I  do, 
my  boy.  But  hush !  speak  low !  The  child's  asleep 
inside." 

"  I'll  swear  I'd  forgotten  him,"  he  answered. 
"  But  kids  are  dangerous,  when  a  man's  in  my  fix." 

"  Christy  believes  you're  dead.  If  you  come  in 
side—" 

"If  I  come  inside.  That's  a  pretty  welcome,  old 
lady.  Of  course  I'll  come  inside,  and  warm  myself 
and  get  a  good  square  meal.  What  do  you  s'pose 
I've  come  for  ?" 

"  But  you  can't — you  can't  be  free  ?" 

"  Free.  •  "Why  not  ?  If  I'd  a  few  dollars  in  my 
pocket  I'd  like  to  see  who'd  keep  up  with  me.  But 
I'm  stuck  for  money  to  get  on." 

"  And  was  that  all  that  brought  you,  Ned,"  she 
asked.  Could  it  be  the  stern  witch-woman,  who 


140  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

spoke  as  a  mother  speaks  to  the  baby  on  her  breast  ? 
"  My  boy !  my  boy !  Had  ye  no  thought  of  the 
mother  that's  been  waitin'  ye  all  these  years.  And 
have  you  forgot  the  lamp,  Ised,  that  I  promised  to 
keep  burnin'  till  you  come.  Oh !  if  I'd  believed  in 
prayin',  I'd  ha'  prayed  when  I  put  a  match  to  it. 
But  my  heart  has  hardened  since  they  shut  you  up." 

Burning  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks,  but  there 
was  no  kiss  to  stanch  them. 

"  We're  wasting  time,  mother,"  he  said,  roughly. 
"  Come,  I'm  in  need  of  food.  S'pose  I  tell  you  I 
left  a  keeper  with  a  knife  in  him,  when  I  broke  jail 
the  other  day.  I've  worked  my  way  along  the  coast 
so  far,  and  I've  got  a  pal  over  yonder,  dodging 
around  Sheep  Porcupine  in  a  cat-boat  we  hired  at 
Lobster  Point.  He'll  take  me  off  at  daybreak,  and 
if  I've  got  the  tin  I'm  safe  to  join  the  gang  at  Lit 
tle  Shark  Island,  where  he  belongs." 

"Pirates  and  robbers,  all  of  them,"  she  said, 
fiercely.  "  And  I've  lived  an  honest  life  for  this  !" 

"  Come,  stop  preaching,  can't  you,  and  take  me 
in  the  house.  You  always  was  a  saving  body.  It 
can't  be  you  haven't  laid  aside  a  bit  of  cash." 

"  Yes,  you  shall  have  it  all.  Every  cent.  A  hun 
dred  dollars,  I'd  toiled  to  put  away  against  the  time 
your  sentence  was  served  out." 

"  A  hundred !"  the  fellow  said,  with  an  oath. 
"That's  better  than  I  looked  for.  Better  than 
food  and  drink,  is  cash." 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  But,  Ned.  Only  one  moment  more.  "We  can't 
talk  inside,  for  fear  the  child  '11  hear  it.  He's  a 
light  sleeper,  Christy  is.  I've  been  offered  a  big 
price  for  this  land,  but  I  wouldn't  part  with  it,  be 
cause  I'd  promised  you  you'd  find  the  lamp  a 
burnin'  in  the  window,  no  matter  when  you  come. 
There's  no  use  any  longer.  I'll  sell  out,  now,  and 
come  to  you,  no  matter  where.  You're  my  own 
lad,  Ned  ;  I  loved  you  best  of  all.  If  I  had  to  walk 
through  blood  I'd  come  to  you." 

An  evil  gleam  of  triumph  lent  him  the  semblance 
of  a  smile.  As  they  stood  there,  the  witch-woman 
and  the  guilty  man,  hand-in-hand  among  the  shad 
ows,  there  came  from  within  the  cabin  the  sound  of 
a  child's  voice. 

"  Grandmammy !     Where  are  you  ?" 

I  saw  the  man  start,  and  a  look  of  terror  come 
into  his  eyes. 

"  Mother !     That's  Nancy's  voice !" 

Then  from  the  cabin  window,  where  the  light  fell 
full  upon  it,  a  face  looked  out  into  the  darkness. 
A  face  with  sleepy,  violet  eyes,  and  tangled  locks 
of  gold. 

"  My  God !"  the  man  cried,  putting  both  hands 
before  his  eyes,  "  it's  Nancy's  ghost !" 

What  happened  after  this  I  cannot  say.  Moved 
by  a  common  impulse,  we  ran  together  from  the 
spot. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

EAELT  next  morning  somebody,  stirring  in  our 
house,  heard  us  whimpering  and  scratching  at  the 
laundry  door.  We  were  let  in,  and  never  did  two 
foot-sore  and  dirty  little  vagabonds  climb  more  joy 
fully  into  bed  than  we  to  our  basket  beneath  the 
tubs. 

At  breakfast-time  great  was  the  rejoicing  at  our 
return.  Washed  and  rubbed,  allowed  to  lie  on  the 
cushion  of  a  wicker-chair,  which  they  called  the 
dog's  Kirvana,  no  mention  made  of  door-mats  and 
chipmunk-holes,  we  were  the  meekest  and  most 
grateful  fox-terriers  to  be  found.  Our  hearts 
swelled  with  love.  "We  kept  licking  all  the  hands 
we  could  get  hold  of. 

"  If  puppies  could  only  speak,  and  tell  us  where 
they  went !"  one  of  the  boys  observed. 

If  we  could  speak !  What  a  tale  we  had  to  tell ! 
The  thought  of  that  dark  secret  weighed  upon  our 
minds.  Oh  !  how  would  it  all  end  ? 

At  flood-tide  that  morning  a  pretty  little  sloop 
came  to  anchor  off  our  shore,  and  our  boys  danced 


A    CAI.V  -DAY     AT     I'.AK     IIAIUJOU 


BAR  IIAUBOR  DAYS.  143 

about  in  delight  at  the  prospect  of  a  day  of  deep- 
sea  fishing. 

Among  guests  invited  to  be  of  the  party  (from 
which  it  was  specified  that  all  mothers,  nurses,  and 
other  females,  Dame  Trot  excepted,  were  to  be  rig 
orously  excluded),  were  two  little  lads  of  five  and 
seven.  These  mariners  contributed  to  the  pleasure 
of  the  day  as  follows  : 

Two  pairs  of  wild-rose  cheeks ;  two  pairs  of  soft 
brown  eyes ;  two  hearts  swelled  by  a  spirit  of  high 
emprise;  two  sailor-suits  of  navy  blue,  and  two 
tongues  that  went  like  mill-wheels. 

Then,  loosening  sails,  our  skipper  let  the  Bonnibel 
fly  over  the  wind-ruffled  water  across  the  bar,  slack 
ening  her  speed  when  we  began  to  thread  our  way 
between  the  crowded  shipping  of  the  harbor. 

To  see  that  harbor  at  its  best  and  gayest,  one 
should  choose  a  splendid  day  at  midsummer,  when 
a  yacht  squadron  has  put  into  port  for  a  week  of 
pleasuring.  Backed  by  the  gray  of  granite,  the 
green  of  fir-woods,  the  blue  of  sky  and  sea,  the 
stranger  crafts  in  holiday  attire,  their  flags  afloat, 
are  courtesying  and  tugging  at  their  anchors  in  the 
tremendous  undertow.  The  great  steamboats- 
glass  houses  upon  wheels— are  resting  beside  their 
piers,  after  the  outside  passage  overnight.  The 
ferry-boat  is  ploughing  her  way  past  ledge  and  cliff 
to  yonder  shadowy  speck  upon  the  mainland,  where 
the  express-trains  wait  for  her.  Schooners  and 


144  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

sloops,  shining  with  new  paint  and  gilded  figure 
heads,  steam-launches  and  tugs,  carry  innumerable 
parties,  on  pleasure  bent.  Here  and  there  some 
long,  black  hull,  red  smoke-stack,  and  weblike  rig 
ging  of  a  stately  steam-yacht  is  haunted  by  a  score 
of  row-boats  and  canoes,  whose  occupants  survey 
her  curiously. 

From  far  and  near,  along  the  Atlantic  coast,  come 
white- winged  visitors ;  everything  that  can  run  a 
sail  out  to  the  breeze  seems  drawn  as  by  a  magnet 
to  these  waters.  Crawling  among  them,  with  glo 
rious  disregard  of  what  they  think  of  patched  brown 
canvas,  go  the  homely  coasters.  Yonder  busybody, 
with  "  "Water  and  Ice  "  emblazoned  on  her  mainsail, 
is  the  cantiniere  of  the  port,  bustling  from  yacht  to 
yacht.  Crossing  our  bow  glides  a  canoe,  propelled 
by  two  young  girls,  one  of  them  kneeling,  bare 
headed,  and  straight  as  a  dart,  to  wield  her  paddle. 

And  now,  ho !  for  the  fishing-grounds  beyond  Egg 
Rock  Light.  The  spirits  of  our  party  were  at  high 
est  pitch  during  the  sail  hither,  when  a  favoring 
breeze  attended  us.  But  the  wind  fell  unexpected 
ly  and  refused  to  pick  itself  up  again,  the  boys  de 
clared.  Not  far  from  the  lighthouse  our  skipper 
decided  to  make  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and  set  to 
trolling. 

Hand-lines,  baited  and  unwound,  were  dropped 
over  the  sides,  and  on  the  countenance  of  each  fish 
erman  sat  a  look  of  determined  jollity. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  145 

Drifting  with  the  tide,  Bonnibcl  had  settled  down 
into  a  deliberate  rocking  progress  across  a  series 
of  long,  green,  oily  swells,  while  overhead  the  mid 
day  sun  smiled  with  malicious  ardor  in  a  cloudless 
sky. 

What  had  come  over  us  ?  Looking  from  one  to 
the  other,  I  saw  the  corners  of  mouths  drawn  down, 
pallid  cheeks,  eyes  from  which  all  brightness  had 
died  out. 

"  Oh !  see  here,  cap'n,"  said  Minor,  in  a  subdued 
voice,  "let's  move  on;  I  don't  believe  we'll  have 
any  kind  of  luck  in  a  stupid  place  like  this." 

"Can't  better  ourselves  till  that  dratted  breeze 
comes  up  again,"  said  the  skipper,  cheerfully. 
"  There,  you've  got  one,  sir.  Steady,  now ;  haul 
her  in  steady  or  she'll  slip." 

'Not  even  the  honor  of  taking  the  first  cod,  and  a 
bouncing  one  at  that,  could  bring  a  smile  to  Minor's 
face.  His  work  accomplished,  he  precipitately  dis 
appeared  to  tell  his  woes  to  Neptune. 

"  I  don't  believe  I'm  so  very  fond  of  cod-fishing," 
said  a  mournful  little  pipe,  coming  from  the  older 
of  our  baby  tars,  the  roses  of  whose  cheeks  were 
fast  turning  to  violets,  despite  his  plucky  efforts  to 
keep  up.  Lifted  from  his  seat,  he  was  cradled  in 
strong  arms,  and  petted  until  he  fell  asleep,  his  ex 
ample  followed,  happily,  by  his  junior.  A  bed  of 
rugs  received  them  both,  and  Paul  and  I  climbed 
up  to  nestle  at  their  feet. 
10 


146  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

Cod  came  flying  in  in  fine  style  after  that,  but 
the  crew  remained  as  glum  as  a  convention  of  un 
dertakers. 

"Minor." 

"What,  papa?" 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  to  wonder  at  Colum 
bus?" 

"  If  I  had  been  old  Columbus  I'd  have  let  the  At 
lantic  alone,  I  know." 

"For  the  last  half -hour  some  verses  have  been 
running  through  my  brain  which  I  think  you  will 
appreciate. 

"  '  What  if  wise  men  had,  as  far  back  as  Ptolemy, 
Judged  that  the  earth,  like  aii  orange,  was  round; 
None  of  them  ever  said,  "come  along,  follow  me, 
Sail  to  the  west  and  the  East  will  be  found." 

Many  a  day  before 

Ever  they'd  come  ashore, 

Sadder  and  wiser  men 

They'd  have  turned  back  again. 
But  that  lie  did  not,  and  did  cross  the  sea, 
Is  a  pure  wonder,  I  must  say,  to  me.'  " 

The  boys  laughed  in  chorus. 

"  I  know  a  verse  a  fellow  told  me  on  the  steamer 
last  year,  when  we  were  going  home,"  said  Jonesy, 
a  guest  of  the  occasion.  "  It's  short,  but  it's  to  the 
point." 

"  To  stay  upon  shore  I  will  ever  endeavor, 
I  do  not  approve  of  the  frantic  Atlantic." 

"  Hallo,  papa !"  cried  Minor,  excitedly.     "  What 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  147 

a  pull  you  had !  Gemini  AVilkins  !  I  believe  you've 
got  a  whale !" 

Sea-sickness  was  forgotten  in  the  excitement  that 
ensued.  After  a  long  struggle,  which  left  upon  the 
captor's  hands  enduring  red  marks  from  the  line, 
he  hauled  in  an  eighteen-pound  cod,  and  tossed  him, 
flopping  and  furious,  in  the  tank  on  top  of  the  others. 

And  lo  !  from  the  boundless  field  of  silver  to  the 
east  arose  a  whiff  of  freshness,  a  delicious  stirring 
of  the  tepid  atmosphere.  The  breeze  was  on  its 
way — it  came !  Every  brow  was  bared  to  its  ca 
ress,  every  pair  of  lungs  drank  in  the  nectar.  And 
in  a  little  while  we  were  speeding  ahead,  around 
the  lighthouse,  set  on  its  granite  shelf  festooned 
with  sea-weed,  alert  and  buoyant  as  befits  true  mar 
iners  to  be ! 

The  baby  tars  awoke,  chirping  like  birds  at  dawn. 
The  lunch-basket,  surveyed  with  sickly  scorn  until 
that  moment,  became  suddenly  the  centre  of  inter 
est.  Soon  not  a  crumb  remained  of  its  liberal  pro 
viding.  The  boys  said  that  eighteen-pound  cod  had 
brought  our  luck. 

Homeward-bound,  the  skipper  made  himself  as 
agreeable  to  the  lads  as  only  a  teller  of  sea-yarns 
can  to  a  group  of  town-bred  boys.  Meanwhile  one 
of  the  gentlemen  of  the  party  took  out  a  newspaper 
and  began  to  read. 

"  Hallo !"  he  said,  "  here's  an  excitement  for  you, 
boys." 


148  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  they  cried  in  unison,  basely' desert 
ing  the  loquacious  skipper. 

"This  fellow,  Hopkins,  they've  tracked  all  the 
way  from  the  -  -  penitentiary  to  Clamport,  over 
on  the  mainland,  not  far  from  here.  It  seems  he 
overpowered  and  half-killed  his  keeper,  and  got 
away  in  the  most  daring  fashion.  Must  be  familiar 
with  the  coast.  Is  supposed  to  have  been  originally 
a  member  of  that  notorious  Whacker  gang  of  des 
peradoes  at  Little  Shark  Island.  The  whole  neigh 
borhood  is  out  searching  for  him  near  Clamport,  as 
a  big  reward  is  offered  by  the  authorities,  bat  they 
think  it  likely  he'll  slip  between  their  fingers." 

"  He  ain't  the  first,  by  a  long  shot,  that's  took 
shelter  in  them  woods,"  said  the  skipper.  "  Ef 
you've  ever  hunted  over  there,  sir,  you'd  see  how 
easy  'tis  to  hide.  An'  a  hundred  miles  of  forest 
on  a  stretch  makes  it  a  hard  job  to  track  a  run 
away.  Ef  the  feller's  got  any  claim  upon  them 
Whacker  boys,  the  police'd  'bout  as  well  shut  up 
shop,  I'm  thinkin'.  They'd  stand  by  him  to  the 
death  ef  he'd  had  a  hand  in  any  of  their  devil's 
work.  Hopkins,  did  you  say?  'Taint  a  name  I 
ever  heered  before  among  'em.  But  then  I  ain't  so 
well  acquainted  here  as  most.  I'm  a  Monheganer 
myself.  Ef  you'd  let  me  hev  a  look  at  that  there 
paper,  when  you're  through  with  it,  I'd  be  thankful 
to  ye.  It's  a  kinder  interestin'  story,  the  quiet  way 
things  keep  along  here  on  the  island." 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  149 

Having  luncheon  from  the  basket  did  not  inter 
fere  with  a  hearty  meal  at  home,  on  the  return ; 
and  while  the  family  were  chatting  around  the  ta 
ble,  we  ascertained  that  an  illumination  was  prom 
ised  for  that  evening  by  the  yachts  in  harbor. 

I  do  not  care  to  comment  here  upon  Paul's  habit 
of  jumping  upon  people  about  to  set  out,  no  matter 
where,  and  insisting  that  he  shall  be  made  one 
of  the  party.  My  own  method,  since  I  arrived  at 
months  of  discretion,  is  to  stand  around  in  conven 
iently  noticeable  places,  and  look  pathetic,  and  if 
any  one  observes  me,  to  wag  my  abbreviated  tail 
with  fervor. 

This  policy  I  pursued,  with  signal  success,  on  the 
evening  of  the  illumination.  A  young  man  was 
going,  in  his  canoe,  to  view  the  scene  from  the  wa 
ter,  and  Paul  and  I  had  both  accompanied  him  to 
the  dock,  where,  after  carrying  his  craft  upon  his 
head  to  the  end  of  the  plank- walk,  he  reversed  it  in 
the  sea,  and  stepped  lightly  into  the  centre. 

"  No,  no,  Paul  Pry.  Go  home,  sir !"  he  remarked, 
positively.  "  A  canoe  is  no  place  to  wriggle  in. 
Trot  may  come,  if  she  likes.  /She  knows  how  to 
keep  her  weather  eye  peeled  in  a  canoe." 

Did  I  ?  It  was  mysterious,  though  flattering,  but 
I  lost  no  time  in  accepting  the  invitation.  Paul 
whined,  and  ran  back  the  plank-walk,  only  to  re 
turn  upon  the  rocks,  seeking  in  every  way  to  move 
our  hearts.  He  would  even  venture  a  little  way 


150  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

into  the  water,  and  then  turn  back,  and  run  along 
the  coast  to  another  point,  until  he  became  a  mere 
receding  speck  of  white  in  the  darkness. 

It  was  a  dry,  warm  night,  the  sky  like  polished 
steel,  the  water  like  a  mirror,  as  we  slid  out  upon 
the  bay.  Along  the  shore  some  bonfires  had  been 
built  that  flamed  out  splendidly  into  the  night,  and 
here  and  there  a  herald  rocket  shot  up  from  ship 
or  wharf,  scattering  a  sheaf  of  blue  or  emerald  stars. 
I  have  heard  people  say  this  motion  of  a  canoe  over 
a  sea  of  glass  at  moonrise  on  a  night  in  midsum 
mer  at  Mount  Desert  is  like  nothing  that  ever  was 
on  sea  or  land — and  I  endorse  them.  Who  gives 
a  thought  to  the  fact  that  a  strip  or  two  of  birch- 
bark,  a  few  stitches,  a  daub  of  resin,  only,  are  be 
tween  him  and  the  sculpins  ? 

Skimming  the  water  as  a  sea-gull  skims  it ;  rest 
ing  in  exquisite  indolence  upon  a  deerskin  in  the 
bottom ;  hearing  the  paddle  dip  with  rhythmic  reg 
ularity  ;  breathing  the  mingled  salt  and  balm  of 
the  transparent  air ;  seeing  the  moon  rise,  her  silver 
track  crossed  and  recrossed  by  silhouettes  of  silent 
voyagers  like  us,  higher  and  higher  till  the  dark 
mountain-sides  are  flooded  with  her  light !  Is  it  a 
wonder  that  the  canoeist  amid  such  surroundings  is 
content  to  bid  farewell  to  prudence,  remonstrance, 
memory  ?  lie  is,  which  is  enough ! 

And  suddenly,  what  looks  like  a  bridge  of  colored 
tire  springs  up  between  Bar  Island  and  the  pier. 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  151 

The  entire  line  of  yachts  is  aglow  with  Chinese 
lanterns  hung  from  stem  to  stern  along  the  rigging. 
Rockets  and  blue-lights  whiz  and  blaze  from  unex 
pected  quarters.  A  launch,  carrying  musicians, 
trails  like  a  glow-worm  about  the  harbor.  Globes 
and  melons  of  imprisoned  fire  appear  on  every  row- 
boat  and  canoe,  to  be  repeated  in  the  tranquil  sea. 
How  glad  I  was  that,  without  being  aware  of  the 
accomplishment,  I  knew  how  to  keep  my  weather 
eye  peeled  in  a  canoe !  I  would  not  have  missed 
this  for  the  world.  And,  seeing  the  water  was 
so  calm,  my  companion  thought  he  would  prolong 
his  voyage  by  going  outside  among  the  islands,  to 
view  the  effect  at  greater  distance. 

It  was  while  we  were  rounding  the  rocky  point 
of  Sheep  Porcupine  that  a  surprising  thing  oc 
curred.  A  dory,  lumbering  along,  passed  close  to 
us,  we  moving  so  noiselessly  as  to  be  unperceived. 
Within  it  sat  a  man,  with  a  hat  slouched  down  upon 
his  eyes.  He  was  evidently  making  for  the  island 
beach. 

"  Fine  sight  this,"  called  out  my  comrade,  as  he 
shot  by. 

The  man,  unlike  the  klinders  in  general,  made 
no  reply  beyond  a  surly  grumble.  The  meeting 
would  not,  perhaps,  have  been  worth  a  comment, 
but  that  a  burst  of  blue  light  from  the  deck  of  a. 
schooner  not  far  off  lit  up  his  face  with  a  sudden 
ghastly  glare.  It  was  the  visitor  to  the  widow 


152  '     BAK  HARBOR  DAYS. 

Perkins's  cottage!  I  saw  his  face  distorted  with 
a  frown,  but  my  comrade's  attention  was  just 
then  diverted  to  a  fire-fountain  upon  the  distant 
pier. 

"  That  is  the  last  of  it,  my  Trot,"  he  said  to  me, 
with  a  sigh.  "  I'll  be  hanged  if  such  a  night  was 
meant  to  sleep  in !  Let's  paddle  up  into  the  bay, 
and  drift  about  till  midnight." 

This  scheme  met  with  my  approval.  On  our 
way  we  passed  more  people  in  boats  and  canoes, 
gliding  out  of  the  shadows  of  the  islands  into  the 
placid  moonlight — cheerful  phantoms,  sending  forth 
bursts  of  shout  and  song  and  laughter.  And  so 
the  midsummer-night's  festival  wore  to  its  close. 

Paul  was  sitting  up  for  me  when  I  got  homo. 
He  said  he  had  been  out  with  the  family  in  a  row- 
boat,  and  that,  anyhow,  you  can  see  just  as  well 
from  a  row-boat  as  a  canoe.  When  I  wanted  to 
tell  him  the  details  of  my  adventure,  he  remarked 
that  he  was  sleepy  and  did  not  care  for  conversa 
tion  at  that  hour. 

"  All  the  same,"  I  said ;  "  the  canoe  was  heav 
enly.  How  I  wished,  Paul  dear,  that  you  had 
known  how  to  keep  your  weather  eye  peeled  in  a 
canoe." 

I  cannot  imagine  why  Paul,  at  this,  was  crosser 
than  before.  He  quite  flew  out  at  me,  and  said  he 
wouldn't  give  a  fig  to  go  in  a  canoe.  They  were 
foolish,  risky  things,  and  if  he  had  anything  to  say 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  153 

upon  the  subject,  I  would  never  set  foot  in  one 
again. 

But  dear  me !  We  have  all  heard  our  Pauls 
talk  that  way,  haven't  we  ?  Somehow  or  other,  it 
never  seems  to  make  much  difference. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WE  wore  sitting,  the  boys,  Paul,  and  myself,  on 
the  summit  of  Sheep  Porcupine,  in  company  with 
Christy  Perkins  and  Cousin  Tommy.  Please  don't 
ask  me  who  Cousin  Tommy  is.  I  must  have  been 
absent  from  the  house  the  first  time  he  came  to 
see  us ;  and,  provoking  as  it  was,  I  had  no  way  of 
picking  up  the  dropped  link  in  my  chain  of  rec 
ollections.  I  could  not  go  up  to  any  one,  as  you 
would,  for  example,  and  say,  "  Oh !  really  now,  ex 
cuse  my  stupidity,  but  it's  quite  escaped  me  to  what 
branch  of  the  family  Cousin  Tommy  belongs."  Or, 
"  Let  me  see,  now,  how  does  Cousin  Tommy  spell 
his  surname  ?" 

He  was  a  tall,  thin  gentleman,  who  dressed  in 
spotless  flannels,  and  the  calves  of  his  legs  were  the 
glory  of  our  boys,  owing  to  their  abnormal  devel 
opment  of  muscle.  Minimus  almost  had  a  pitched 
battle  with  Jonesy,  because  of  Jonesy's  unbelief  in 
the  asserted  girth  of  Cousin  Tommy's  calves. 

Cousin  Tommy  was  always  inventing  long  tramps 
for  our  boys  to  take,  and  they  found  him  most 


BAH  HARBOR  DAYS.  155 

agreeable.  On  this  occasion  he  had  consented  to 
accompany  them  for  the  afternoon  to  Sheep  Por 
cupine  a  little  reluctantly,  because  it  was  impos 
sible  to  go  there  afoot.  But  the  recollection  that 
some  pretty  tough  climbing  might  be  had  after 
landing  from  the  boat  caused  him  to  feel  the  after 
noon  would  not  be  entirely  thrown  away.  We 
had  scrambled  to  the  top  over  boulders  hid  in 
grass,  along  narrow  paths,  where  life-everlasting 
was  just  coming  into  bloom,  and  plumes  of  golden- 
rod  were  brightening,  and  had  emerged  upon  an 
open  space,  looking  over  at  the  village. 

"Well,"  said  Cousin  Tommy,  after  an  exceed 
ingly  brief  rest,  "  I  think  I'll  tramp  around  a  bit, 
and  see  the  view  from  the  east  side  of  the  island. 
AVho'll  go  with  me  ?  Don't  all  speak  at  once." 

Minor  went.  He  had  an  honest  share  of  Cousin 
Tommy's  spirit.  Minimus  thought  he  and  Christy 
would  stay  and  watch  the  water-jug  and  the  sand 
wiches  they  had  brought  along  to  refresh  the  inner 
man  upon  this  expedition.  Besides,  there  was  cold 
coffee  in  a  tin-pot,  carried  with  some  pains  over  the 
rocks  upon  the  ascent,  in  order  to  give  excuse  for 
the  camp-fire  the  lads  desired  to  make. 

"We'll  have  the  coffee  hot  for  you  when  you 
come  back,"  cried  Minimus,  as  the  others  disap 
peared  in  a  sudden  dip  of  the  hills. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  could  come  with  us,  Christy," 
said  the  little  boy,  while  they  were  gathering  sticks 


156  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

to  heap  up  in  the  elbow  of  a  rock.  "  It  wouldn't 
have  been  half  the  fun  without  you." 

"  I'm  glad,  too,"  said  Christy.  "  Just  happened 
so.  Grandmammy  told  me  to  run  off  and  pick  ber 
ries,  or  do  what  I'd  a  mind  to.  First  off  I  thought 
I'd  stay,  as  grandmammy  is  sick  like,  but  she  said 
she  did'n  want  nobody  round,  an'  there  warn't  no 
chores  to  do." 

"  When  my  mamma  has  a  headache,"  said  the 
other,  "  she  lets  me  cure  it.  Just  put  a  little  eau- 
de-cologne  on,  and  blow,  and  she'll  get  well  right 
aAvay,  generally." 

Christy  stared. 

"  I  took  a  lot  o'  lobsters  from  my  pots  yisterday 
an'  to-day,"  he  said,  changing  the  subject,  through 
inability  to  cope  with  the  difficulties  it  presented. 
"  You'd  a  laughed  to  see  'em  clawin'  and  chawin' 
at  one  another.  They  fetched  a  good  price  in  the 
village,  too ;  lobsters  is  kinder  skeerce  this  season." 

"  Oh,  Christy,  it  must  be  such  fun  to  sell  things," 
remarked  his  friend,  with  an  envious  sigh.  "I'd 
like  to  buy  part  of  your  dory,  and  go  in  partner 
ship  with  you.  Minor  and  I  have  broken  ours  up, 
you  know.  He's  gone  in  with  Jonesy.  There, 
light  the  match,  will  you.  Off  she  goes.  We'll 
let  her  burn  down  to  embers  before  we  heat  the  cof 
fee.  That'll  give  'em  time  to  get  back.  I  wonder 
if  Minor'll  run  upon  those  old  sheep  we  chased  last 
summer  ?" 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  157 

While  the  lads  talked,  Paul  and  I  laid  on  the  moss 
beliind  them. 

"  How  they  chatter,  Paul !"  I  said.  "  Now,  when 
I  am  in  the  presence  of  a  scene  like  this,  I  like  to  bo 
silent,  and  compose." 

"  Compose  away,"  said  Paul ;  "  only,  if  you're  do 
ing  another  chapter  of  the  book,  do  me  the  favor  to 
omit  all  scenery." 

Omit  scenery  ?  How  could  I,  in  the  face  of  that 
laughing  sea,  that  warmth  of  color,  that  abundant 
life? 

From  Sheep  Porcupine  we  saw  the  water  all  around 
us  tinted  of  the  true  blue  of  the  sapphire  or  the 
gentian  of  the  Alps.  The  summer  sunshine  fell 
like  a  wash  of  gold  upon  the  shores  of  Mount  De 
sert.  The  cliffs  glittered,  the  tree-tops  sparkled  as 
they  stirred,  the  sea  reflected  light  from  a  million 
facets.  Away  over  towards  the  lighthouse  we 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  mackerel  fleet,  a  colony  of 
sail-boats,  prowling  in  the  wake  of  their  elusive 
prey.  And  beneath  our  feet,  the  surf  ran  in  to 
break  in  a  shower  of  diamonds  on  the  rocks.  Oh, 
what  a  world  to  live  in!  What  had  we  happy 
dwellers  here  in  common  with  toiling  multitudes 
afar,  with  sorrow  or  with  sin?" 

There  was  a  rustle  in  the  woods  behind  us — a 
stealthy  rustle — followed  by  silence.  The  boys  nev 
er  even  heard  it,  but  I  did,  and  my  ears  went  up  at 
once.  I  could  not  resist  a  single  short,  shrill  bark. 


158  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

"  What  do  you  hear,  Dame  Trot  ?"  asked  my  lit 
tle  master.  "  Perhaps  it  is  that  old  ram  and  the 
wild  sheep.  Listen  a  minute,  Christy,  and,  if  it 
is,  \ve'll  charge  them,  and  have  a  jolly  race." 

The  rustle  began  again,  changing  to  a  footstep. 
Then,  over  the  shelving  pile  of  rocks  beneath  which 
our  fire  sent  up  a  curl  of  smoke,  a  man  looked  down. 
I  knew  him  in  an  instant,  but  of  course  the  boys 
did  not.  When  he  saw  Christy  he  recoiled,  and  a 
half -smothered  oath  came  from  his  lips.  But  there 
was  no  longer,  in  his  eyes,  the  superstitious  fear.  It 
was  rather  an  expression  of  hatred  and  repugnance. 

"  Picnic,  eh  ?"  he  said,  with  an  attempt  at  jocu 
larity.  "  I  wonder  if  you've  got  a  mouthful  to  give 
a  hungry  man  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  my  master,  rising  politely.  "  I 
suppose  you've  been  out  all  day  on  the  water,  and 
forgot  to  take  your  lunch." 

"  You've  hit  it,  youngster,"  was  the  answer,  with 
a  harsh  laugh.  As  the  man,  looking  right  and  left, 
came  down  the  rocks,  we  saw  how  torn  and  soiled 
his  clothes  were,  how  haggard  and  pale  his  face. 
The  lads  drew  back  from  him  instinctively. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  be  afraid,  you  kids,"  he  said, 
addressing  himself  to  Minimus,  and  avoiding  the 
other  with  his  eyes.  "  All  I  want  of  you  is  food 
and  drink.  Water  in  the  jug?  Give  it  to  me, 
quick." 

The  boys  served  him  without  a  word.     He  seized 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  159 

the  jug,  and,  pouring  out  one  cupful  after  another, 
drank  eagerly.  He  took  the  sandwiches,  and  ate 
them  with  ravenous  haste ;  and  then,  lifting  the  lid 
off  the  pot,  peered  in,  smelt  of  it,  put  the  coffee  on 
to  be  heated,  and  sat  down  by  the  fire. 

I  knew  by  the  look  on  the  faces  of  both  boys 
that  they  were  badly  frightened.  But  they  gave 
no  sign  beyond  breathing  a  little  quicker  and  be 
coming  very  solemn. 

The  man  asked  questions  in  a  furtive  way.  He 
found  out  how  we  had  come  to  the  island,  and 
who  was  of  our  party.  As  his  hunger  was  appeased, 
and  after  drinking  the  hot  coffee,  he  seemed  to  gain 
more  spirit. 

"  So  you've  got  a  row-boat  lying  idle  on  the  beach, 
eh  ?"  he  asked ;  "  and  the  gentleman  won't  want  to 
be  going  home  this  hour,  I  guess.  See  here.  What 
do  you  say  to  making  a  dollar  by  taking  a  note  out 
for  me  to  that  sloop  lying  west  of  us.  You  can  tell 
your  folks,  you  know.  They  won't  mind  your  doin' 
a  favor  to  a  gentleman  in  trouble." 

I  saw,  by  the  expression  of  my  little  master's 
eyes,  that  he  thought  this  was  a  queer  sort  -of  a  gen 
tleman.  The  man's  manner  was  cajoling,  but  it 
did  not  reassure  them. 

"  Fact  is,  I've  been  all  night  here.  Had  an  acci 
dent  to  my  boat  last  night,"  he  resumed,  confi 
dentially.  "  It  went  off  with  the  tide  while  I  was 
lookin'  at  the  fireworks,  and  there  ain't  been  a  soul 


160  BAR   HARBOR   DAYS. 

upon  the  island  till  you  got  here.  If  I  can  get  word 
to  that  sloop,  the  captain's  a  friend  of  mine,  and 
he'll  take  me  off  all  right." 

The  boys  drew  back  a  few  steps,  and  consulted 
together  in  whispers. 

"  You  mustn't  go,"  said  Christy.  "  You  ain't  used 
to  managin'  a  boat  outside,  an'  you  wouldn't  be  let. 
I'll  do  it,  if  anybody  does,  long  as  it's  your  boat, 
an7  you  give  me  leave." 

"  Wouldn't  you  rather  row  out  there  with  me, 
sir?"  he  said,  taking  the  spokesman's  place,  and 
looking  the  stranger  full  in  the  shifty  eyes. 

The  sound  of  Christy's  voice  made  a  sort  of  shiv 
er  run  through  our  unpleasant  visitor,  but,  rallying 
up  in  a  dogged  kind  of  way,  he  said,  gruffly, 

"  I  ain't  asked  you  to  take  me  anywheres,  I  guess. 
Do  what  you're  bid,  and  here's  the  dollar — besides, 
I've  got  my  traps  to  gather  up  down  on  t'other 
shore." 

Taking  out  a  new  pocket  calendar,  he  tore  out  a 
blank  page  and  scribbled  on  it  with  a  pencil,  thrust 
ing  the  note,  with  a  piece  of  silver,  into  Christy's 
hand. 

"I  don't  want  the  dollar,"  said  Christy.  "It 
ain't  my  boat  to  hire."  And,  handing  the  money 
back,  he  ran  off  down  the  steep  side  of  the  cliff,  a 
short  cut  to  the  beach. 

"  He's  a  rare  specimen,"  said  the  man,  looking 
after  the  boy  with  a  laugh  more  repulsive  than  his 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  1G1 

frown.  "  Wonder  what  stock  lie  sprung  from ! 
Well,  sonny,  seein'  as  you've  done  me  a  good  turn, 
s'pose  you  take  it,  and  I'll  be  gettin'  back  to  where 
I  spent  the  night." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  our  boat,"  remarked  Mini 
mus,  briefly,  holding  his  hands  behind  him. 

"  You're  a  pair  o'  bloomin'  innocents,"  said  the 
man,  with  a  grin,  as  he  let  the  silver  slip  back  into 
his  pocket.  "  Just  as  you  like,  though ;  only  you'll 
be  sure  to  mention  that  I  offered  you  the  cash.  A 
gentleman  always  pays  his  way,  don't  he  ?  Ta-ta ! 
I'm  off.  Hold  on  to  them  wild  beasts  o'  yourn,  they 
look  dangerous.  My  compliments  to  the  folks  at 
home,  not  forgetting  gran'ma  and  the  baby.  Ta 
ta!" 

And  with  this,  to  my  master's  great  relief,  he 
took  his  leave,  looking  around  and  behind  him  first, 
then  scrambling  with  extreme  agility  up  the  rocks, 
and  disappearing  in  the  thick  woods  on  the  island 
crest. 

All  this  time  I  had  been  drawn  up  stiff  and  tense, 
my  teeth  set,  and  ready  for  a  spring. 

"  Why,  Trotsey  dear,"  said  my  master,  in  a  rather 
shaky  voice,  "  you  look  as  if  you  thought  you  were 
a  mastiff.  Oh !  I  do  wish  Minor  and  Cousin  Tommy 
Avould  come  back." 

lie  ran  to  the  highest  point  of  rocks  he  could 
command,   and   stood   there,   following    Christy's 
course  upon  the  water  eagerly.     There  was  the 
11 


102  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

cat-boat,  tacking  about  in  an  aimless  kind  of  way, 
and  as  our  boat  pulled  alongside  of  her  we  plainly 
saw  the  man  on  board  come  to  the  side  and  take 
the  folded  paper  from  Christy's  hand  and  read  it. 
Then  a  whistle  sounded  from  the  deck,  and  there 
was  Christy,  rowing  back  for  dear  life. 

"  There  wasn't  anything  else  for  us  to  do,  Cousin 
Tommy,"  said  Minimus,  when  they  returned,  after 
describing  the  encounter.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  he 
scared  us.  pretty  badly." 

"  It  isn't  that  I  mind  your  doing  him  a  service 
with  the  boat,"  said  Cousin  Tommy,  "  but  the  fel 
low  must  be  a  bully,  if  not  worse.  Serve  him  right 
to  expose  him  in  the  papers.  He  ought  to  be  kicked 
out  of  his  hotel." 

"  I  don't  think  he's  anybody  who  stays  at  a  hotel. 
He's  not  like  any  one  I  ever  saw  upon  the  island. 
He  had  such  dreadful  eyes.  Oh !  Cousin  Tommy. 
I  wish  we  might  go  home  now,  instead  of  waiting 
for  the  picnic." 

And,  seeing  how  the  heart  had  been  taken  out  of 
things  by  our  adventure,  Cousin  Tommy  acquiesced. 
Packing  the  basket  and  beating  out  the  fire,  they 
went  down  the  cliff  path  to  meet  Christy  at  the 
shore. 

Christy  had  nothing  wherewith  to  feed  our  curi 
osity.  The  captain  of  the  sloop  was  a  dark  man,  lie 
said,  but  there  his  powers  of  description  ended.  "VVe 
scanned  the  rocks  for  a  glimpse  of  our  late  intruder, 


BAR  HARBOR   DAYS.  163 

but  saw  no  sign  of  him.  Oddly  enough,  instead  of 
coming  inshore  at  once,  the  cat-boat  resumed  her 
trick  of  tacking  up  and  down  between  the  islands. 

"  Queer  business,  very,"  said  Cousin  Tommy,  in 
a  dissatisfied  sort  of  wa}T. 

Looking  back  amid  the  lengthening  shadows,  as 
we  neared  our  dock,  we  lost  sight  of  her  entirely. 

They  had  rowed  hard  coming  home,  for,  as  the 
sun  had  set,  a  change  came  upon  the  weather,  and 
the  sky  showed  gathering  clouds.  In  an  incredibly 
short  time  after  our  landing  a  mighty  norther  came 
whistling  across  the  bay,  driving  the  surface  of  the 
water  from  wrinkles  into  waves,  from  waves  to 
pounding  breakers.  As  the  gale  increased  in  vio 
lence  the  tide  rose  over  its  utmost  boundary,  curling 
above  the  sea-wall  and  lashing  the  limit  of  the  lawn. 
The  dock,  entirely  submerged,  broke  up,  and,  despite 
the  efforts  of  a  man,  tethered  to  a  line,  who  waded 
out  breast  high  to  secure  the  remnants,  part  of  it 
went  off  beyond  recall.  As  night  closed  in,  to  peer 
through  the  windows  was  to  behold  a  waste  of 
surging  Avater  under  a  starless  sky,  no  rain  falling, 
but  blast  after  blast  of  wind,  bearing  down  upon 
the  house, 'till  it  seemed  to  be  rocking  like  a  bul 
rush. 

By  dawn  next  day,  when  weary  watchers  fell 
asleep,  whether  they  would  or  not,  the  gale  had 
spent  its  fury.  A  band  of  saffron  glowed  in  t In- 
eastern  sky,  and  of  the  carnival  of  overnight  there 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS, 

were  left  but  white-caps,  bounding  on  a  field  of 
blue,  and  long,  curling  tongues  of  foam  that  licked 
the  rocks  around  the  island. 

Then  it  was  that  everybody  made  haste  to  fall 
into  procession  along  the  road  to  Schooner  Head. 
As  early  in  the  day  as  was  practicable,  our  party 
turned  in  at  the  wicket  gate,  where  a  meadow  path 
leads  to  the  Spouting  Horn.  Here,  in  the  little  bay, 
Avhere  at  ordinary  times  a  gentle  surf  laves  the  wild- 
flowers  growing  in  thickets  on  the  bank,  were  now  a 
mass  of  noisy  breakers,  hurrying,  hustling,  frothing 
in  a  mad  assault  upon  the  rocks.  And  out  upon 
the.  Head !  What  a  sight  to  be  remembered.  The 
wide  waste  of  ocean,  broken  up  into  seething  bil 
lows,  laced  with  flying  surf!  The  cliffs,  where 
timid  people  stand  shuddering,  where  strong-brained 
folk  rejoice  exultingly  to  be,  are  split  into  yawn 
ing  fissures,  ending  in  black  abysses  set  with  jagged 
peaks.  Far  below  is  the  Thunder  Cave,  where  lean 
ing  towers  of  emerald  go  reeling  in,  to  be  driven 
up  resistlessly,  and  burst  with  a  cannon's  roar 
through  the  pit's  mouth  a  hundred  feet  above. 
The  tumult  of  the  sea !  the  wild  exhilaration  of  the 
air !  and  above,  the  blue  sky,  looking  down  on  the 
havoc  of  the  night. 

We  watched  the  Portland  steamer  go  laboring 
by  in  the  direction  of  Great  Head,  and  around  the 
lighthouse  one  or  two  plucky  schooners  scudding 
before  the  wind.  But,  with. this  exception,  there 


AKTKK    TIIK    STolJM. 


I5AU   HARBOR  DAYS.  1(55 

was  no  break  in  the  restless,  foam-swept  field,  so 
that  we  plainly  discerned  at  a  great  distance  flot 
sam  of  various  kinds  torn  from  its  moorings  farther 
up,  and  speeding  out  to  sea.  Logs  of  wood,  casks, 
lumber,  floats,  an  empty  fishing-dory,  astray  and 
tossing  like  a  cork ;  and  then — an  object  never  to  be 
seen  unmoved — a  boat,  keel  uppermost,  her  single 
sail  dragging  through  the  furrows  of  the  waves ! 

At  this  spectacle  a  chill  fell  on  the  gay  assem 
blage  of  people  looking  down  securely  from  the 
cliffs.  The  tale  it  told  was  more  eloquent  than 
words. 

"When  we  drove  home  through  the  village  we 
heard  the  story  of  the  wreck,  already  caught  up 
and  bandied  about  the  wharves  and  streets. 

Late  on  the  evening  of  the  day  before,  a  return 
ing  fisherman  had  seen,  in  the  rough  water  off  Burnt 
Porcupine,  a  cat-boat,  evidently  in  distress.  Hail 
ing  the  two  men  in  her  he  offered  them  his  help, 
which  was  refused,  with  oaths  and  an  admonition 
to  mind  his  own  affairs. 

"Which,  the  wind  a-blowin'  like  it  was,  I  con 
cluded  for  to  du,"  the  man  said,  dryly. 

At  daybreak  the  capsized  boat  was  going  out  to 
sea  with  the  tide,  to  be  ultimately,  no  doubt,  recov 
ered  and  towed  in  by  some  craft  homeward  bound. 
Until  this  should  happen,  no  clue  could  be  had  t<* 
the  identity  of  those  who  sailed  in  her,  since  in 
quiry  at  all  the  wharves  failed  to  ascertain  that  a 


1(56  BAR   HARBOR   DAYS. 

boat  was  missing  which  answered  to  her  descrip 
tion.  The  general  belief  was  that  when  the  fierce 
sea  wearied  of  playing  with  her  prey  and  tossed 
the  bodies  on  some  distant  shore  public  curiosity 
would  be  sated,  and  not  before. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

AFTER  tlic  great  gcale,  the  weather  settled  down 
into  a  series  of  long  bright  days,  making  of  out 
door  life  a  golden  potion,  to  be  slowly  sipped.  And 
yet,  at  the  approach  of  the  first  day  of  September, 
many  of  the  summer  guests  took  flight  from  Mount 
Desert,  as  if  the  breeze  that  blew  down  from  the 
spice  woods  on  the  heights  bore  a  hint  of  pestilence. 

Yes,  "  the  season  "  was  at  an  end.  The  season  of 
madding  crowds  at  the  hotels,  of  scrambles  for  daily 
bread,  of  overloaded  buckboards,  of  choruses  sung 
out  of  tune,  of  cotillons  danced  in  hotel  dining-rooms, 
of  lobster-salad  administered  in  birch-bark  platters 
on  lone  rocks  by  the  sea,  of  vows  plighted  with  reck 
less  prodigality  by  moonlight  in  canoes,  of  prom 
enading  upon  verandas  from  morn  to  dewy  eve! 
Every  boat  and  train  bound  southward  carried  num 
bers  who  had  been  participants  in  these  dubious  joys. 
But  of  quiet  people,  contracting  their  evening  circle 
around  the  fire  of  the  hotel  parlors,  and  rejoicing  in 
the  return  of  cream  for  coffee,  and  of  rest  for  weary 
ears;  of  cottagers,  finding  themselves  once  more 


168  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

face  to  face  with  the  unwonted  spectacle  of  house 
hold  gods,  there  remained  a  goodly  number. 

These  lingerers  knew  what  to  look  for  in  the  pe 
culiar  mellowness  of  atmosphere  immediately  be 
fore  and  for  a  long  time  after  the  equinoctial  gales. 
And  when,  amid  the  fir-woods  clothing  hills  and 
islands,  autumn  tints  began  to  flame  on  the  decidu 
ous  trees,  and  the  sea  seemed  to  be  "  falling  asleep 
in  a  half-dream,"  people  gave  up  attempting  to  be 
anything  but  gypsies  on  the  tramp. 

Then  were  arranged,  by  our  friends,  a  series  of 
the  most  delightful  expeditions  one  can  imagine: 
excursions  by  boat,  buckboard,  or  steam-launch,  to 
all 'points  of  interest  about  the  island;  excursions 
where  the  numbers  were  neither  too  great  nor  too 
small,  the  temperature  neither  too  hot  nor  too  cold, 
and  the  atmosphere  was  thoroughly  to  be  relied 
upon  for  long-distance  views!  But  for  the  fact 
that  my  domestic  critic  is  lying  in  wait  for  me  with 
a  rod  in  pickle,  I  might  be  tempted  to  dilate  upon 
one  drive  in  particular  to  Beech  Hill,  a  place  where 
you  climb  up  a  rocky  stairway  to  reach  a  summit, 
whence,  looking  down,  you  behold  the  greater  part 
of  the  beautiful  island  stretched  in  a  green  map  at 
your  feet,  cleft  by  the  silver  fiord  of  Somes  Sound, 
and  adorned  by  many  a  sparkling  lake-gem !  Here, 
sitting  on  beds  of  juniper,  both  fragrant  and  elastic, 
you  may,  if  you  have  nerve  enough,  look  down  a 
sheer  precipice  of  granite  hundreds  of  feet  into  the 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  1(59 

silent  shadows  of  Echo  Lake  beneath,  where,  ap- 
proaching  from  the  other  side,  voyagers,  in  season, 
sometimes  take  an  ancient  scow  to  idle  away  a 
morning  among  the  lily-pads.  "When  we  were  there 
AVC  remarked  a  curious  absence  of  animal  life  in  the 
landscape.  There  Avere  feAV  birds.  A  coAv-bell,  tink 
ling  on  the  lower  mountain-side,  struck  the  ear  pleas 
antly  ;  and  it  Avas  a  relief  to  look  over  the  hills  and 
far  aAvay  at  the  vistas  of  blue  billows  chasing  each 
other  beyond  the  limit  of  the  island. 

As  our  party  grouped  itself  picturesquely  among 
the  rocks  on  Beech  Hill  top  that  afternoon,  an  en 
thusiastic  Harvard  man  Avas  heard  to  declare  the 
scene  Avas  a  veritable  idyl  of  Theocritus  (Paul  and  I 
doing  duty  for  the  sheep !),  where  shepherds  couch 
on  grassy  slopes  above  the  sea,  and  pipe  the  praises 
of  their  fair.  "Whereupon  a  young  lady — it  AA*on't 
do  to  say  what  city  claimed  her — remarked  that  she 
neA'cr  did  mind  a  pipe  if  it  was  in  the  open  air,  and 
would  he  kindly  pass  the  butter-cups — the  last  re 
quest  sounding  more  pastoral  than  it  looked,  as,  Avith 
a  somewhat  constrained  air,  he  leaned  oA~er  and 
handed  her  a  box  with  edges  of  lace  paper,  fre 
quently  to  be  seen  on  out-door  occasions  of  the  kind, 
containing  a  species  of  bon-bon  much  in  vogue  that 
season. 

I  have  one  poignant  recollection  of  the  Beech 
Hill  day.  There  it  AATas  I  discovered  the  tread HM-V 
of  Flossv,  the  Yorkshire  friend  of  Avhom  I  havr 


170  BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

previously  spoken.  It  was  the  eve  of  her  departure 
with  her  mistress  to  return  to  their  home  at  New 
port,  and  I  suppose  she  thought  that,  as  our  paths 
lay  separate  in  future,  there  was  no  need  for  further 
dissimulation  of  friendship)  with  me.  For  the  first 
time  it  flashed  on  me  in  watching  that  creature's 
manoeuvres  to  gain  Paul's  exclusive  attention  that 
I,  from  the  beginning,  had  been  used  as  a  stepping- 
stone  to  his  favor.  She  began  by  sneering  at  my 
neat  little  collar  of  brass  links,  and  wondering  if  my 
mistress  could  not  afford  (afford,  forsooth !)  to  give 
me  a  silver  bangle  with  a  bell,  like  hers.  I  an 
swered  warmly,  and  appealed  to  Paul,  who  pre 
tended  to  be  looking  at  the  view.  Flossy  went 
on  saying  disagreeable  things ;  and,  at  last,  calling 
to  Paul  to  follow  me,  I  turned  and  indignantly  left 
the  blueberry  patch  where  these  incidents  occurred. 
Here  comes  the  incredible  part  of  my  story.  Paul 
not  only  resumed  his  close  study  of  the  landscape, 
but,  when  I  addressed  him,  was  attacked  with  sud 
den  deafness.  Flossy  laughed  insultingly,  and  I 
waited  to  hear  no  more.  Not  knowing  how  else  to 
•  dispose  of  myself,  I  ran  after  two  of  those  peripa 
tetic  people  on  every  party  who  can  never  keep 
still,  but  must  always  be  investigating  some  new 
perch  on  the  rocks  or  point  where  the  view  looks 
incomparably  better  than  it  could  possibly  assume 
to  look  to  the  people  left  behind.  In  this  case  the 
explorers  turned  out  to  be  just  at  that  development 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  171 

of  mutual  passion  whore  words  aro  a  fleeting1  show, 
and  action  is  all  that  is  required — as  they  say  upon 
the  dramatic  stage — so  my  time  was  not  altogether 
lost,  nor  were  my  opportunities  for  taking  notes 
perceptibly  diminished,  while  in  their  company.  It 
was  about  as  funny  as  such  things  are  generally, 
and  my  ill-temper  vanished  rapidly ;  but  when  the 
declining  sun  brought  us  all  together  once  more, 
Paul  and  Flossy  were  missing ! 

I  found  them,  sitting  side  by  side  under  a  prick 
ly  bush,  apparently  oblivious  of  time  and  me.  I 
reached  there,  to  hear  Flossy  tell  Paul  she  felt  sure 
Dame  Trot  could  never  thoroughly  understand  and 
appreciate  a  nature  like  his ;  and  a  lot  more  of  maudlin 
praise,  to  which  Mr.  Pry  was  listening,  with  a  smirk 
of  self-satisfaction  I  cannot  pretend  to  put  into 
words!  I  held  my  breath  long  enough  to  think 
how  Flossy  had  depended  on  me  to  introduce  her 
everywhere  earlier  in  the  season;  how  often  she 
had  vowed  she  despised  females  whose  sole  stock-in- 
trade  in  dealing  with  the  opposite  sex  was  flattery ; 
how  she  protested  she  fairly  reverenced  my  intellect, 
and  had  always  said  so,  when  a  question  arose  as  to 
'my  personal  appearance;  how — enough  things  to 
flee  my  soul  with  vengeful  longings — and  then !  all, 
then — I  pounced  on  her,  and  shook  her  till  the  wind 
raised  her  silken  coat  into  a  fleecy  cloud !  If  she 
had  resembled  an  animated  new  door-mat  before 
this  encounter,  after  it  she  looked  like  the  door-mat 


172  BAR   HARBOR   DAYS. 

upon  which  several  pairs  of  feet  have  been  wiped  ! 
Flossy's  shrieks  summoned  her  despairing  mistress, 
and  mine,  and  the  tragedy  was  brought  abruptly  to 
a  close.  During  the  long  drive  home  Flossy  nestled 
to  her  lady,  whimpering,  and  I  sat  quietly  trium 
phant  on  my  lady's  lap.  Paul  took  care  to  remain 
at  a  safe  distance  from  both  of  us,  and,  as  my  deceit 
ful  enemy  left  Bar  Harbor  for  Newport  next  morn 
ing,  was  not  indulged  to  any  extent  in  compliments 
for  days  to  come — which,  I  am  glad  to  say,  had  a 
very  salutary  effect  upon  his  volatile  spirit. 

It  was  some  time  since  we  had  seen  Christy,  and 
we  had  begun  to  miss  the  dear  little  fellow  from 
our  sports  and  councils,  wThen  it  befell  us  to  pay  our 
last  visit  to  the  cabin,  under  the  following  circum 
stances  : 

"We  were  hunting  for  mushrooms  around  our  ten 
nis-court,  and  great  fun  it  was  to  spy  and  jump  for 
the  little  pinky-white  buttons  in  the  grass,  as  well 
as  the  full-grown  disks,  which  w^e  considered  less 
desirable.  While  thus  engaged,  one  day,  I  came 
upon  a  beautiful  little  short-eared  owl,  trapped  on  a 
night  excursion  through  our  stop-nets,  and  falling 
helplessly  over,  to  hang  head  down  until  released. 
I  barked  vigorously,  and  Mr.  Pry,  who  was  engaged 
in  his  favorite  amusement  of  springing  for  butter 
flies  upon  the  wing  (which  he  caught  in  his  mouth 
and  chewed,  although  they  always  made  him  sick), 
ran  over  to  join  me.  Between  us,  we  must  have 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  173 

scared  the  poor  thing  out  of  the  little  wits  that  re 
mained  to  her,  after  her  prolonged  inversion  of  the 
brain.  However,  the  boys  came  along  pretty  soon, 
and  set  her  free  with  pocket-knives — an  operation 
more  to  her  advantage  than  to  that  of  the  tennis- 
net.  She  was  a  beauty.  Soft  brown-gray  in  plu 
mage,  and,  when  she  recovered  her  natural  poise 
on  a  chair-back  in  the  Den,  with  an  air  of  royalty 
in  chains.  There  was  an  attempt  to  nourish  her 
majesty  by  extending  on  the  end  of  a  canoe-paddle 
a  mouse,  which,  with  a  rattle  in  her  throat,  she 
grabbed,  flying  across  the  room  with  it  to  perch 
upon  an  oar-rack.  ]SText  day  they  found  under 
neath  her  perch  a  compact  ball,  made  of  her 
victim's  skin  and  bones.  Mice  failmg,  they  had 
recourse  to  bits  of  raw  meat,  accepted  but  ungra 
ciously  ;  and,  the  reproach  of  her  sightless  eyes  prov 
ing  too  much  for  her  tender-hearted  captors,  they 
put  her  in  a  peach-basket  and  set  out  to  consult 
Christy  as  to  the  propriety  of  further  endeavor  to 
bring  her  up  by  hand. 

Truly,  it  did  seem  cruel  to  keep  anything  of  the 
bird  kind  in  durance  vile  at  a  season  when  there 
was  such  extraordinary  activity  pre vailing  among 
their  tribes.  The  robins  had  already  Mown,  chick- 
a-dees  were  twittering  diligently  over  their  prepa 
rations  for  departure ;  swallows,  hawks,  an  eagle  now 
and  then,  crows  and  gulls  were  perpetually  on  the 
wing  around  us.  As  to  the  wood  birds,  we  heard 


174  BA1>  HARBOR  DAYS. 

them  often  consulting  together  whether  such  fools 
there  could  be,  as  creatures  willing  to  exchange 
these  tents  of  gold  and  crimson  for  uncertain  win 
ter-quarters  in  a  distant  south.  And  on  our  own 
beach,  stepping  out  into  the  lapping  tide  in  a  doubt 
ful,  high-shouldered  kind  of  way,  we  spied  a  crane, 
who,  at  my  bark,  humped  herself  up  and  flew  away 
over  a  sea  like  lapis-lazuli.  Ducks  rocked  in  pairs 
upon  the  water,  and,  diving,  would  reappear  at  a 
great  distance,  shedding  the  sparkles  from  their 
wings.  Even  the  humming-bird  who  had  haunted 
our  flower-beds  and  boxes  since  June  showed  him 
self  a  lingerer  like  the  rest,  and  went  on  sipping 
wine  of  heliotrope. 

On  the  way  out  of  the  village  we  met  Christy 
himself,  looking  a  little  downcast. 

"  I'm  go'ne  an  errand  for  grandmammy,"  he 
said,  in  answer  to  the  boys'  vociferous  greeting. 
"  It's  only  to  the  post-office,  and  if  you'll  sit  here 
under  the  trees  and  wait,  I'll  be  back  pretty  soon. 
Mebbe  she  ain't  nothin'  more  for  me  to  do  this 
forenoon,  an'  we  can  play  a  bit." 

They  readily  consented,  and  during  the  time  that 
elapsed  before  we  again  saw  the  little  fellow  in  his 
torn  straw-hat  and  jacket  like  a  faded  leaf,  master 
Paul  improved  the  opportunity  to  get  us  into  dis 
grace  by  charging  some  ducks  waddling  about  the 
yard  of  a  roadside  house.  The  ducks  ran  about 
fussing  and  quacking,  and  out  came  the  woman 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  175 

with  a  dipper  of  water,  which,  aimed  at  Paul,  suc 
ceeded  in  filling  Minor's  shoe. 

Altogether  we  were  flurried,  and  generally  out  of 
spirits,  when  Christy,  running,  came  up  with  us  again. 

"  I'm  real  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  with  his  old 
beaming  smile.  "  I  was  kinder  'f  raid  you  might  be 
gettin'  back  to  the  city,  so  many's  gone.  Lemme 
carry  the  owl.  Ef  you'll  leave  her  in  our  woodshed 
I  guess  I  can  tame  her  pretty  quick,  an'  let  her  do 
her  mousin'  for  herself.  Them  creatures  like  to 
catch  'em  alive  every  time.  I  had  one,  once,  and 
sold  her  for  a  dollar  to  a  city  man  that  was  goin' 
back  to  Boston." 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  anything  you  couldn't 
tame,  Christy,"  cried  his  companions,  Avith  genuine 
admiration. 

When  we  reached  the  cabin  the  boys  hung  back, 
while  Christy,  half  opening  the  door,  went  in,  Paul 
and  I  following. 

The  little  place  was  clean  swept,  and  a  fire  was 
burning.  In  a  chair  beside  it  sat  the  witch-woman, 
but  I  never  saw  so  changed  a  face  and  figure.  Her 
head  drooped  upon  her  breast,  her  cheeks  were  sunk 
and  haggard.  Only  her  eyes  seemed  living,  and 
they  burned  with  an  eager,  watchful  gleam,  like 
sparks  half  buried  in  the  ashes. 

"  You  are  there,  Christy  ?"  she  said,  starting  fee 
bly  from  her  chair.  "  Well,  what  have  you  got  to 
say  to  me  ?" 


170  BAR  HARBOR   DAYS. 

"  The  same  thing,  grandmammy." 

"No  letter!"  she  cried,  in  a  voice  of  anguish. 
"  Again,  and  again,  and  again,  no  letter.  Boy,  you 
ain't  lost  it  by  the  vrav  ?  You  ain't  lying  to  me? 
Speak!" 

"  Ef  I  ever  lied  to  you,  grandmammy,  I'm  lying 
now,"  said  the  boy,  patiently.  "  He  said  you  needn't 
trouble  to  send  me  every  day,  if  you  are  sick.  If 
a  letter  comes,  he'll  see  it  gets  to  you  by  some  one 
of  the  folks  comin'  this  way." 

"  You  didn't  let  him  see  you  was  over-anxious, 
lad  ?"  cried  she,  trying  to  calm  herself.  "  You 
knowed  it  was  about  a  little  matter  o'  business, 
didn't  you  ?  They  gossip  so,  you  know,  an'  it  was 
my  own  affair,  not  theirs — my  OTTO,  my  own,"  and 
she  began  rocking  back  and  forth,  half  closing  her 
eyes  and  pressing  her  lips  together. 

"  You  wouldn't  let  me  make  you  a  cup  of  tea, 
grandmammy  2"  Christy  ventured,  presently,  uncer 
tain  how  to  proceed. 

"  Xo,  no,  child,"  she  said,  wearily.  "  Run  away 
and  do  what  you've  a  mind  to,  till  it's  dinner-time. 
I'm  better  off  by  myself." 

"  'Lije  Tompkins  giv  me  this  here  piece  o'  news 
paper,"  Christy  went  on,  timidly.  "  He  said  it  had 
all  about  the  findin'  o'  that  Whacker  feller's  body 
down  to  Ironbound  o'  Tuesday,  if  I'd  want  to  read 
it.  Most  everybody's  talkin'  'bout  how — " 

Christy  did  not  finish  his  sentence.     He  was  ar- 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS.  177 

rested  by  the  ghastly  pallor  that  came  upon  her 
face. 

"  Whacker !"  she  gasped,  "  Whacker !  Good  God, 
it  can't  be !  Give  me  the  paper,  lad.  Don't  stop 
here.  I'll  read  it  to  keep  me  company.  A  passle 
o'  lies,  most  likely,  like  all  the  rest.  I  won't  hev 
you  talkin  'to  'Lije  Tompkins  'bout — things — it— 
ain't—  Lies,  I  tell  you,  lies !  It  worn't  Whacker, 
an'  the  other  one  worn't —  Go,  go ;  do  you  want 
me  to  take  the  stick  to  you.  I  won't  .be  spied 
upon." 

"  I  wasn't  spying,  grandmammy,"  the  boy  said, 
in  a  low  voice,  moving  towards  the  door.  "  I'll  go 
if  you  make  me,  but — 

"  Go,  I  tell  you !"  she  interrupted,  harshly,  with  a 
motion  as  if  to  strike  him. 

He  shrank  out  of  the  door  and  stood  for  a  mo 
ment  irresolute.  The  boys  had  run  down  to  their 
old  playground  on  the  shore.  He  heard  their  cheer 
ful  voices,  then,  turning,  rushed  back  to  the  cow 
shed  and,  throwing  himself  upon  a  pile  of  hay, 
burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

Poor  Christy  !  He,  who  was  everybody's  friend, 
must  carry  his  own  burden  unshared,  unlightened ! 
We  could  not  bear  to  see  him  crying  so,  and,  with  a 
couple  of  light  bounds,  reached  his  side,  snuffing  the 
hands  clasped  over  his  eyes,  and  licking  the  wet 
places  we  c;>uld  find  between  his  fingers.  His  squir 
rel,  too,  thiil  had  been  in  the  rafters  hunting  for  the 
12 


178  BAU  HARBOR  DAYS. 

nuts  often  hidden  there  for  him,  ran  swiftly  down, 
to  whisk  his  bushy  tail  caressingly  on  Christy's 
cheek. 

"  Ef  grandmammy  would  only  let  me  love  her !" 
the  boy  sobbed,  and  in  his  loneliness  and  yearning 
he  hid  his  face,  and  did  not  see  that  the  old  woman, 
with  a  livid  face  and  tottering  steps,  had  followed 
him  into  the  shed. 

"  Christy." 

Christy  sprang  to  his  feet.  There  she  stood,  the 
stern  old  witch-woman,  holding  both  arms  out  to 
him. 

"  Christy !  My  poor  orphan  boy.  That  I  could 
drive  away  the  only  livin'  bein'  that's  left  to  warm 
my  heart." 

Quick  as  thought  he  was  clinging  to  her  neck, 
raining  sweet  kisses  on  her  furrowed  cheeks.  Little 
knew  he  or  cared  what  had  wrought  this  tardy 
wonder.  To  console  was  more  to  him  even  than 
to  be  consoled,  and  the  nature  were  adamant  that 
could  resist  his  tender  ministrations. 

"  It  won't  seem  so  hard  now,  grandmammy,"  he 
said,  wiping  his  eyes.  "  Leavin'  the  old  home  and 
all.  Only  you  must  hurry  an'  get  well,  an'  be  the 
same  as  you  use  ter." 

"  Grief  don't  kill,  boy,"  she  said,  hoarsely.  Al 
ready,  her  unwonted  demonstration  over,  she  was 
lapsing  into  her  old  sombre  self ;  but  with  a  differ 
ence. 


BAR   IIAKBOK   DAYS.  17Q 

"  Grandmammy,"  persisted  Christy,  "  if  you  mind 
goin'  away  from  here  so  much,  why  don't  you  tell 
'em  so  ?  It  ain't  too  late,  is  it  ?" 

"  Too  late  ?"  she  repeated.  "  Oh,  my  God !  the 
poor  ignorant  child,  he  don't  know  what  he's  talk- 
in'  'bout.  Too  late.  My  heart  will  break." 

Christ}'-  had  never  seen  her  shaken  by  such  a 
storm.  She  let  him  lead  her  into  the  house  and 
place  her  in  her  chair. 

Our  boys  had  played  until  they  were  tired,  before 
Christy,  with  a  very  sober  face,  came  down  the 
cliffs.  . 

"  Hush !"  he  said,  holding  up  one  finger.  "  Grand- 
mammy's  asleep,  I  think.  She's  been  quiet,  now, 
this  good  while,  and  I'm  goin'  to  get  the  dinner." 

"  Well,  we're  sorry  she's  ailing,  Christy,  and  we 
must  go  now,  but  we've  had  a  very  nice  time  on 
the  beach,"  said  the  boys  in  concert.  "  Won't  you 
walk  with  us  across  lots  to  the  turning  of  the  lane  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Christy ;  "  and  I'll  train  the  owl  for 
you  the  best  I  can." 

"  We  can't  take  her  back  to  town,  anyhow,"  said 
the  boys.  "  So  perhaps  you'd  better  keep  her  in 
your  "  Happy  Family."  Isn't  it  too  bad  it's  all  so 
nearly  over.  Next  summer,  when  we  come  up 
here  again,  we'll  see  you  just  as  often,  Christy.  We 
like  you  awfully,  you  know." 

To  their  surprise,  Christy's  large  blue  eyes  were 
full  of  tears,  i  !el'<  >re  he  could  answer,  a  lath  dressed 


180  BAU   HARBOR  DAYS. 

in  fine  clothes,  and  driving  a  village  cart  with  a 
groom  behind  her,  turned  into  the  lane.  For  a 
wonder,  the  lady  of  Fernley  Hall,  for  it  was  she, 
was  all  smiles  and  self-complacency. 

"  The  very  first  thing  I  shall  do,  Wilson,"  she  re 
marked,  reining  in  her  horse,  to  look  down  the  bit 
of  lane  overgrown  with  golden-rod  and  aster,  "after 
I  have  got  rid  of  that  eyesore  of  a  cabin,  will  be  to 
plough  this  lane  up  and  grass  it,  and  put  out  a  board 
warning  all  trespassers  to  keep  away.  Of  course 
people  will  want  to  be  poking  in  to  get  down  to 
the  rocks.  But  Fll  stop  if,  they  will  see,  if  I  have 
to  go  to  law." 

She  was  a  very  decided  person  in  speech  and 
manner,  and  we  all  felt  relieved  when,  without 
looking  at  the  boys  where  they  had  stooped  down 
to  pick  a  few  late  blackberries  under  their  crimson 
leaves,  Mrs.  Smith  chirruped  to  her  fat  cob,  and, 
jingling  many  silver  chains,  turned  out  of  the  lane 
and  drove  away. 

What  we  did  was,  with  one  accord  to  look  at 
Christy. 

"  It's  true,"  he  said,  with  a  forlorn  kind  of  a  smile. 
"  I've  known  it  for  a  week,  that  grandmamniy's 
'bout  made  up  her  mind  to  sell  to  Mr.  Smith,  and 
leave  the  Harbor.  It's  that  that's  troublin'  her,  I 
guess.  We're  sorter  fond  of  the  old  place." 

I  remember  we  stood  silent  and  sad  for  a  moment 
before  our  little  group  broke  up.  So  clear  and  still 


BAR  HARBOR  DAYS. 

the  autumn  midday  was,  that  the  ring  of  a  sports 
man's  gun,  duck-shooting  far  out  on  the  bay,  sound 
ed  quite  near  to  us.  And  the  sea  laughed  and  glit 
tered  as  if  it  did  not  hold  the  secret  of  Christy's  in 
heritance  of  shame. 

That  night,  for  the  first  time  in  many  a  year, 
the  country  people-  said,  no  light  was  seen  to  burn 
in  the  Witch  Cove  cabin  window. 


NOTA  BENE. 

I  HATE  observed  that  when  people  read  anything 
in  print  about  an  actual  place,  they  invariably  go 
to  hunting  up  localities,  and  peopling  them  with 
characters  from  real  life.  Don't  try  this  plan,  I 
beg  of  }TOU,  with  little  Christy's  story.  My  tale  is 
but  a  gauzy  one  at  best,  and  if  you  handle  it,  I  can 
not  promise  that  it  will  not  vanish  like  a  cobweb 
in  your  grasp. 

I  sign  myself 

DAME  TEOT. 


BY  MRS.  BURTON  HARRISON. 


BAR   HARBOR   DAYS.     A  Talc  of  Mount  Desert.     Illus 
trated  by  Fenn  and  Hyde.     IGino,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

A  bright  story  of  life  at  Mount  Desert.  ...  Is  is  exceedingly  well  done, 
and  the  scenery,  the  ways  of  the  people,  and  the  social  methods  of  the 
rusticators  lend  interest  to  the  book. —  Christian  Advocate,  N.  Y. 

The  book  is  bright  and  readable. —  Courier,  Boston. 

A  delightful  book  about  Mount  Desert,  its  summer  inhabitants,  their 
sayings  and  doings. — N.  Y.  Sun. 

One  of  the  most  attractive  books  of  the  season,  and  will  be  in  great 
demand  by  readers  who  wish  an  original,  captivating  summer  idyl. — 
Hartford  Post. 

It  is  all  appropriate,  and  graceful,  and  sunny-hearted,  and  sweet-natured, 
and  true  to  life.  Yes,  the  optimists  are  truer  to  life  than  the  pessimists; 
and  this  dainty  chronicle  of  summer  wanderings  where  the  fun  is  not  all 
selfish  pleasure,  but  tuned  to  sympathy  with  those  less  fortunate,  is  a 
blessing  not  in  disguise. — Critic,  N.  Y. 

A  breezy  book,  full  of  happy  hits  and  Bar  Harbor  groups.  ...  A  bright, 
sweet-tempered  story,  prettily  illustrated. — Chicago  Herald. 

HELEN  TROY.     IGmo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

It  is  a  breezy  little  society  novel,  with  a  pretty  plot  and  a  number  of 
capitally  drawn  characters. ...  It  is  always  bright,  fresh,  and  entertaining, 
and  has  an  element  of  naturalness  that  is  particularly  pleasing.  The  de 
scriptions  are  very  spirited,  the  conversations  are  full  of  point  and  often 
genuinely  witty,  and  the  tone  of  the  whole  is  both  refined  and  delicate. — 
Saturday  Evening  Gazette,  Boston. 

The  book  is  written  with  exceeding  cleverness,  and  abounds  in  delight 
ful  little  pictures. —  The  Critic,  N.  Y. 

Mrs.  Harrison's  style  is  crisp,  epigrammatic,  piquant ;  she  shades  her 
characters  artistically,  paints  from  real  life,  and,  without  hurrying  the 
reader  along,  never  lets  her  story  drag.  . .  .  The  merit  of  the  work  lies  in 
the  fidelity  of  its  portraiture  and  the  felicity  of  its  utterance. — X.  Y.  ll<  rn!<l. 

GOLDEN  ROD:  AN  IDYL  OF  MOUNT  DESERT.     32mo, 
Paper,  25  cents;  Cloth,  40  cents. 

•A  very  sweet  little  story  of  a  successful  courtship,  wrought  into  a 
charming  description  of  scenery  and  life  on  Mount  Desert. — Springfield 
(111.)  State  Journal. 

This  is  a  most  charming  summer  story — "An  Idyl  of  Mount  Desert" — 
th-j  mere  reading  of  which  makes  you  long  to  be  there,  and  to  feel  sure 
you  will  find  the  delightful  people,  and  just  in  (lie  particular  nooks,  you 
have  been  reading  about. —  Qabiburg  (l\].)  Republican 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

The  a1>"  •<>   ''.'/  Tiiai1,  Jitmtil^i'   ynv/MiW,  to   (in;/   jmrt    "f   tin 


THEIR  PILGRIMAGE. 

By  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER.     Richly  Illustrated  by  C.  S. 
REINHART.     pp.  viii.,  304.     8vo,  Half  Leather,  $2  00. 


Aside  from  the  delicious  story — its  wonderful  portraitures  of  character 
and  its  dramatic  development — the  book  is  precious  to  all  who  know  any 
thing  about  the  great  American  watering-places,  for  it  contains  incompar 
able  descriptions  of  those  famous  resorts  and  their  frequenters.  Even 
•without  the  aid  of  Mr.  Reinhart's  brilliant  drawings,  Mr.  Warner  conjures 
up  word-pictures  of  Cape  May,  Newport,  Saratoga,  Lake  George,  Richfield 
Springs,  Niagara,  the  White  Mountains,  and  all  the  rest,  which  strike  the 
eye  like  photographs,  so  clear  is  every  outline.  But  Mr.  Reinhart's  de 
signs  fit  into  the  text  so  closely  that  we  could  not  bear  to  part  with  a 
single  one  of  them.  "Their  Pilgrimage"  is  destined,  for  an  indefinite 
succession  of  summers,  to  be  a  ruling  favorite  with  all  visitors  of  the 
mountains,  the  beaches,  and  the  spas  which  are  so  marvellously  reflected 
in  its  pages. — JV.  Y.  Journal  of  Commerce. 

The  author  touches  the  canvas  here  and  there  with  lines  of  color  that 
fix  and  identify  American  character.  Ilerein  is  the  real  charm  for  those 
who  like  it  best,  and  for  this  one  may  anticipate  that  it  will  be  one  of  the 
prominent  books  of  the  time.  Of  the  fancy  and  humor  of  Mr.  Warner. 
which  in  witchery  of  their  play  and  power  are  quite  independent  of  this 
or  that  subject,  there  is  nothing  to  add.  But  acknowledgment  is  due  Mr. 
Reinhart  for  nearly  eighty  finely  conceived  drawings,  and  to  the  publishers 
for  the  substantial  and  rich  letter-press  and  covers. — Boston  Globe. 

No  more  entertaining  travelling  companions  for  a  tour  of  pleasure  re 
sorts  could  be  wished  for  than  those  who  in  Mr.  Warner's  pages  chat  and 
laugh,  and  skim  the  cream  of  all  the  enjoyment  to  be  found  from  Mount 
Washington  to  the  Sulphur  Springs.  .  .  .  His  pen-pictures  of  the  charac 
ters  typical  of  each  resort,  of  the  manner  of  life  followed  at  each,  of  the 
humor  and  absurdities  peculiar  to  Saratoga,  or  Newport,  or  Bar  Harbor, 
as  the  case  may  be,  are  as  good-natured  as  they  are  clever.  The  satire, 
when  there  is  any,  is  of  the  mildest,  and  the  general  tone  is  that  of  one 
glad  to  look  on  the  brightest  side  of  the  cheerful,  pleasure-seeking  world 
with  which  he  mingles.  ...  In  Mr.  Reinhart  the  author  has  an  assistant 
who  has  done  with  his  pencil  almost  exactly  what  Mr.  Warner  has  accom 
plished  with  his  pen.  His  drawings  are  spirited,  catch  with  wonderful 
success  the  tone  and  costume  of  each  place  visited,  and  abound  in  good- 
natured  fun. — Christian  Union,  N.  Y. 

Mr.  Reinhart's  spirited  and  realistic  illustrations  are  very  attractive,  and 
contribute  to  make  an  unusually  handsome  book.  We  have  already  com 
mented  upon  the  earlier  chapters  of  the  text;  and  the  happy  blending  of 
travel  and  fiction  which  we  looked  forward  to  with  confidence  did,  in  fact, 
distinguish  this  story  among  the  serials  of  the  year. — N.  Y.  Evening  Post. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

The  above  work  sent  by  mail,  pontage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  Statef 
or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-25m-9,'47(A5618)444 


UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 

AT 
LOS  ANGELES 


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T   rll  D 

U*<.^«T^   t    t.J-lT-1 

loly 
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Harrison  - 
Bar  Harbor 

days  • 

DEC  10 

195J 

LIBRARY  FACILITY 


401    1 


PS 
1819 


